


Happily Never After.

by thelittlestwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, and the story proceeds from there, baby!Stiles, baby!derek, basically they meet when they're younger, sterek, sterek au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:04:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestwolf/pseuds/thelittlestwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is seven years old and he's going to see the world. Or, a story in which Stiles and Derek meet at a young age and spend a really long time looking for their happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoy! I'll post chapters every few days! So far you've been absolutely wonderful and if you want to love me on my tumblr [thelittlestwolf](http://www.thelittlestwolf.tumblr.com/) I would not be opposed to that. :) xoxo

Stiles Stilinski is seven years old and he’s going to see the world.

He has his backpack packed full with Poptarts, blankets, and his mother’s great big book of fairytales. Stiles can’t read well yet, but he’s heard the stories enough that he can recite them all as he thoughtfully turns the pages, fingers gliding over the beautiful images of lands so far away. But Stiles is going to go to those lands. He’s going to help the Prince return the glass slipper to Cinderella, and climb the beanstalk with Jack. He’s going to join Robin Hood’s band of merry men and help Hansel and Gretl find their way back home.  
Stiles is going to join Prince Charming in his quest to find Snow White and he’s going to follow Peter Pan to Neverland. 

Stiles Stilinski is seven years old and he’s going to see the world, the whole world, and all the places in between.

And the first place he’s going is Beacon Hills Forest. The very best parts of fairytales happen in forests. Stiles is going to find his own fairytale, he thinks, as he pulls his red hood over his head and hikes his backpack up a little higher, and takes his first step into the woods.

His mother had picked him up from school and told him to start on his homework while she took a nap. Stiles just smiled and quietly pulled out his homework because he knew his mother wasn’t feeling well. Even though he was young, he could see it in the unmistakable dark circles beneath her eyes and the paleness of her face. She never felt well anymore. 

“Thank you, my little Prince,” she said as she always did, before kissing Stiles on the forehead and retiring to her room for a nap before the Sherriff came home for dinner.  
Stiles waited until he heard the door shut behind his mother before unloading the school supplies and other unnecessary weight from his backpack and scampering up the stairs to his room to pack. He snatched his blanket off the bed, grabbed the Poptarts he had hidden under his bed (“Don’t let your father have any of these,” his mother told him and Stiles wholeheartedly agreed), and carefully retrieved the precious book of fairytales from beneath his pillow. He carefully packed them all in his backpack, and at the last minute, Stiles grabbed a flashlight he saw on his desk. He may not have a sword or a magic wand to protect him, but he had read enough stories to know that evil creatures didn’t like the light. This would be his secret weapon. 

Stiles tiptoed down the stairs and carefully opened the front door, wincing at each creak and clack it made as if the sounds echoed through the whole house. When the door finally swung open, he turned back for a moment.

“I’ll be back, Mommy. The Prince will save you.” He whispered as he stepped out and quietly pulled the door behind him, as he stepped out into the cold, biting wind of a January afternoon.  
…  
Stiles hadn’t ever been this far into the Beacon Hills Forest before. He and Scott, his best and only friend, had tried, many times, to sneak across the street from the Stilinski house and embark on a great adventure, but they hadn’t ever made it past the end of the driveway before somebody caught them. Usually the Sherriff, who seemed to have some kind of troublemaker radar and always appeared out of nowhere to stop them. Stiles loved his dad, but what did a kid have to do to go on an adventure around here?

He trembled now as he looked back and could barely even see the edge of the trees where he had entered. He trembled because he was excited and also he hadn’t quite expected it to be this cold in the woods. Even though it was mid-afternoon, little light shone through the trees that towered over him, leaving Stiles to trek carefully through the darkening woods. Stiles was unusually uncoordinated for a seven-year-old and was smaller for his age, often leaving people to assume that he was only a child. But Stiles was seven and seven was practically ten and ten was basically a teenager. He didn’t feel alone in the woods, only silly and a little embarrassed whenever he tripped over a raised root or a hidden rock. He hadn’t thought to bring bandaids, he thought when he stood up from his third fall and a small cut on his palm started to bleed. 

Princes don’t need bandaids, he told himself and defiantly shoved his hand into his pocket, and continued deeper into the woods. 

Stiles walked for hours. Maybe it wasn’t hours, but the way the light receded and the wind started to bite a little bit harder made it feel like he had been walking around for hours. When he looked around, he found himself completely surrounded by trees, no view of his driveway or any sign of the town at all. Stiles would never admit that he was a little bit scared when he decided to take a Poptart break at the base of a nice, big oak tree, wrapped up in his blanket and his storybook opened to Little Red Riding Hood. 

Stiles might have been the only seven year old in the world to understand the concept of irony.  
…

“Derek? Are you done brooding now? It’s almost time for dinner.” 

Derek huffed at Laura’s voice in his ears, ignoring her sentiments completely as he ran further away from the house. He was mad at her and he wasn’t brooding. He was running and ignoring. 

His paws barely touched the ground beneath him as he picked up speed. The faster he ran, the further away he would be. From home, from everyone, from the world. Derek just wanted to be alone for a while. 

Not like he wasn’t alone all the time anyways. 

Derek was twelve and had exactly two friends. One was his sister, Laura, and she didn’t even really count because she had to be friends with him. They were related. But she was older than him, sixteen, and she didn’t even go to the same school as him. His other friend, Isaac Lahey, was seven. Laura used to babysit him when he was younger, and somehow Isaac became very fond of Derek, even through his hard exterior. Every time Mr. Lahey would drop Isaac off for Laura, he would find Derek and follow him around until his dad returned at the end of the night. Derek couldn’t say that he minded. 

But Mr. Lahey didn’t need a babysitter very much anymore now that Isaac was in elementary school. He had other ways to keep Isaac occupied afterschool, and as Derek ran, he couldn’t even think of the last time Isaac had been at his house. 

He ran faster. 

Derek had exactly two friends, and neither of them went to school with him. This left Derek sitting in the back of every class, slumped down in his desk so nobody would try to talk to him. He sat in a table in the corner of the cafeteria and ate his lunch alone, if he even ate lunch at all. Most of the time he spent his lunch period walking laps around the track because he was always full of energy that just needed to be released. That’s why he walked home from school every day, abandoning his human form as soon as he reached the edge of the woods. 

He enjoyed being a wolf more because it felt more natural to him. Nobody had expectations of him as a wolf. He wasn’t expected to speak or behave a certain way or even interact with people at all. It was easier to express himself as a wolf, nudging Laura’s knee to apologize instead of actually having to say I’m sorry or letting his mom scratch his head to say I love you. Being a wolf was easier, freer, and better to Derek. It just made sense. 

Things stopped making sense when he caught an unrecognizable scent and came to an immediate halt. 

_“Derek. Seriously, come on. It’s get-”_

Derek snapped his jaws and let out a low growl and Laura’s voice stopped. 

_“What is it? Derek? Are you okay?”_

Derek sniffed the air cautiously, trying to place the foreign scent, but mostly trying to decide friend or foe. His eyes squinted into the darkness around him and he tried to see where he was as he had been running and not paying close attention to his surroundings. Laura could scold him for that later, but now he just needed to see what he was up against. He sniffed again. 

The scent was sweet like sugar, Derek thought, but there was more. It smelled pure and innocent, the way children always smelled. The Hale family had many children, and Derek often found himself by tiny crawling creatures with sticky hands and wide, curious eyes. But in the woods? _Why would there be a child all alone in the woods?_

_A trap. By hunters. Would they use a child as bait?_

_“Oh no!”_

Derek heard a voice cry out a little ways ahead of him and couldn’t help himself as he bounded towards the voice. He made the immediate decision that trap or not, there was a child alone in the dark woods and there were things a lot scarier than him out there. 

And once again, Derek came to an immediate stop when he found the voice and the sweet scent. 

_What the…  
…_


	2. Chapter 2

The first story Stiles remembered his mother reading to him was Little Red Riding Hood. She had told him that it was her favorite story when she was a little girl, and she dressed up like Little Red for five Halloweens in a row. Stiles thought the story was good, except that his imagination was just a little too vivid for a child his age and he couldn’t help imagining the story should have ended different.

“Mommy?” He asked one night as she had put the book down and started to tuck him in.

“Yeah, baby?” 

“How come the story didn’t have a happy ending? I thought fairytales were supposed to have a happy ending.” 

“It does have a happy ending, sweetheart. Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother live happily ever after.” His mother explained with a sweet, soft laugh. She smiled down at Stiles, rubbing her hand through his short brown hair.

“I know, but why doesn’t the wolf get to be happy at the end? I don’t really think it counts if everybody doesn’t get a happy ending…” Stiles said, fighting the sleep that usually came with his mom’s soothing voice and soft touches. 

“That’s a very good question. How do you think it should have ended?”

“Well, I think that the wolf felt really sorry for what he did. I think that he apologized to Little Red Riding Hood and her grandma and he lived happily ever with them too, the end.” Stiles offered with a yawn, his long eyelashes fluttering as he desperately fought to stay awake for just one second longer. His mother looked at him with an expression of equal parts curiosity and pride, as if that was the true ending to the story and her son was the one who had written it. 

“I’ll tell you what. If you write me that ending, with pictures and everything, we’ll put that in the book instead. Deal?”

“Deal.” Stiles agreed. 

“Goodnight, my little Prince.” His mother whispered as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, pulled the sheets up to his chin, and turned off the lamp beside his bed. 

“’Better to see you with, my dear’” Stiles said in a gruff, leaning further down into the tree, storybook in one hand, flashlight in the other. “’And Granny, what big ears you have!’” He exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. 

His mother always read the voices when she told him bedtime stories, and he figured that if he was at home now that’s exactly what she would be doing. It made the forest seem a little less dark and scary when he hid behind his book and listened to the sound of his own voice. Every so often he would hear a branch snap or a rustle of leaves, but he refused to look away from the book, and just pulled his hood up further and held his flashlight a little tighter. He just convinced himself it was all in his head, just like his dad had said when he used to be afraid of the dark.

But Stiles couldn’t help but think it was a little bit different being all alone in a dark forest.

“’Oh no!’” He exclaimed as Little Red Riding Hood discovered her grandmother was actually the wolf in disguise. 

Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable sound of crunching leaves and footsteps, so distinct that Stiles couldn’t even pretend they were in his head. The footsteps seemed to be coming towards him, and now Stiles started to think that maybe this _wasn’t ___a good idea at all. He _wasn’t ___a hero, he _wasn’t ___a prince, and he definitely _wasn’t ___old enough to be out here by himself. _Where was his mommy. ___

_____He released his grip on the book in favor of pulling the blanket up to his chin. Hiding under the blankets had always worked so well for him in the past, so there was certainly no need to change his tactics now. He whipped his flashlight around, his hand shaking as it pointed right in between two trees, towards the sound of the approaching footsteps.  
And then the sound stopped. His hand shook too much and suddenly the light was bouncing all over the place. Stiles nearly shrieked when it caught a pair of icy blue eyes. They glowed in an inhuman way, catching the light and reflecting it back. The eyes blinked at the invasive light, and Stiles realized that he probably shouldn’t antagonize the strange, possibly terrifying creature before him and lowered his flashlight. _ _ _ _ _

_____“H-h-hi?” He stammered before clamping his free hand over his mouth._ _ _ _ _

_____The creature huffed quietly and stepped out between the two trees. Stiles couldn’t bring himself to relax even though he had just said “hi” to a strange creature and it hadn’t immediately attacked him. He adjusted his light so it illuminated the area in front of him, casting light on a small black wolf instead of blinding it._ _ _ _ _

_____“Oh… wow…” Stiles gasped because there was an actual wolf standing two feet away from him, just staring at him. The wolf was small, but noticeably strong as it slowly approached Stiles. He flinched reflexively back into the tree and the wolf stopped. The sound of Stiles’ heart trying to pound its way out of his chest didn’t exactly help him relax, or the wolf for that matter. He just stood there, staring as if he was studying Stiles._ _ _ _ _

______“Derek? Would you just answer m… are you still shifted? Jesus, Derek… this is getting ridic-” ____ _ _ _ _

______Derek growled sharply to cut his sister off, and immediately regretted it when he heard the small boy whimper. Once he saw the small boy in the red hood, Derek knew he wasn’t a threat. The way he was pressed so far against the tree with a blanket pulled up to his face and a flashlight shaking in his small hand, he wasn’t anything more than a lost little boy. Derek could smell the fear rolling off him in waves, but it hadn’t been specifically directed at him until now. He wanted to shift back into his human form and apologize, but he didn’t think that would help anything at all._ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Okay, shutting up now. Just come home, soon, okay?” ____ _ _ _ _ _

_______Derek focused his attention on the little boy, who now had his eyes squeezed shut and his face half hidden by his hood. His heart raced as if it was going to take off out of his chest and his pulse was deafening in Derek’s ears. He had to calm the boy down before he could help him, and in order to calm him down, he had to prove to him he meant no harm. Derek felt like this was a lot of work for a stranger, but there was something about the boy he just couldn’t deny._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______He took three slow steps and cleared the space in between them. One of his paws stretched across the fleece blanket and Derek leaned carefully into the boy’s space. Ideally, he wished he could find a hand or an arm, but the only skin he found was a rosy cheek. It seemed oddly personal, but Derek had no other choice as he slowly started licking the boy’s face._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Stiles felt all of the air leave his lungs and the blood stop in his veins when the wolf started licking his face. He hadn’t even heard or seen the wolf get closer, so the rough wetness that lapped at his cheek had been a total surprise. He couldn’t move beneath the wolf. Stiles couldn’t move at all._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“A-are you t-tasting m-me?” Stiles whispered, one of his thoughts vocalizing. He wanted to clamp his hand over his mouth again, but he couldn’t even move. “A-are you going to eat me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______The black wolf withdrew and quirked his head to the side. He shook his head slowly, as if he was answering the questions. Then Stiles’ breath stopped for another reason._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“C… can you understand me?” He whispered. The wolf nodded. He looked at Stiles, almost thoughtfully. Stiles had never had a dog, but he had spent a lot of time with the dogs at the Sherriff’s office and he talked to them too. But never had a dog ever looked at him like that._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Can you talk?” He asked, but the wolf just sighed heavily in his face. “Well, I don’t know! All of the animals in the movies always talk?! So you can’t talk but you can listen. That’s so… COOL!” Stiles screeched, suddenly standing up and shedding all of his previous inhibitions. The wolf backed up, startled by the sudden movement._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Suddenly the quiet, scared boy wasn’t so quiet or scared anymore._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Derek tried to keep up with all of the questions the boy asked, but his brain just couldn’t process the speed at which the words came out of his mouth. He started to get a headache and finally had to put a paw on the boy’s chest to stop him. He gave his best annoyed look and hope it translated through his wolf, and when the boy resigned in to a sheepish look, he knew it did._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Well, I bet if you’re a wolf, you know the woods really well, right?” Derek nodded. “Okay, well, I think I’m lost.” Derek snorted and to his surprise the boy actually swatted him on the nose. “That wasn’t very nice!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Derek relented. It really wasn’t very nice. Sure the boy was rattling off a million words a minute, but he was still a lost little boy and somewhere deep down he was scared._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Okay, well in my version of Little Red Riding Hood, do you want to know what happens at the end? The Big Bad Wolf and Little Red become best friends. So… wanna be my best friend and help me go home?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Derek studied the boy carefully. He looked to be about five or six, but he spoke with the intelligence of someone far beyond his years. His big brown eyes seemed oddly wise, and although he smelled innocent like a child, Derek felt like he may have known more about the world than he should. He didn’t understand the boy at all. He was innocent and wise, afraid and confident, and somehow scared and excited all at the same time. He was a whirlwind and a light breeze, whipping through Derek and soothing him at the same time. Derek came out of his thoughts when a small hand timidly rested on the top of his head._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______He nodded and waited patiently as the little boy collected his things, among them a large, cumbersome book that he struggled to pack in his back pack. The boy turned to Derek with a large grin and secured his hood over his head once more._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Stiles ran his hand across the wolf’s head and let it softly grip the fur on his neck as they started to walk carefully into the night._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“I’m Stiles, by the way. I’m sure you have a name too, but I don’t know what it is. I’ll figure it out though. I’m really, really good at puzzles.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Derek just rolled his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles talked the whole way back to the Hale house and Derek couldn’t tell if it was because he actually thought he had interesting things to say or if he was just comforted by the sound of his own voice. Derek didn’t mind. It was nice to have someone to talk to, even if he couldn’t talk back. Maybe it was just nice that someone wanted to talk to him.   
Also, because Stiles talked their way home, Derek didn’t have to worry about signaling to his family that he had someone with him. They could hear him from a mile away.

“Derek, who is that with you? Why is he talking so much?” Laura asked.

“Derek, honey, hurry up. I don’t want you and your guest out in the cold like this all night.” His mother instructed. 

“Is he telling you the story of Little Red Riding Hood?! Oh, baby brother, hurry up I want to see this precious angel…”

Derek didn’t know why they were all talking to him and asking him questions when he obviously couldn’t respond, and he knew his father and Uncle Peter wondered the same thing when he heard them laugh.

Finally, they reached Derek’s house and Stiles stopped in his tracks.

“Do you live here?” He squealed, eyes going wide and jaw dropping open. Derek nodded and snorted at Stiles’ reaction. He had lived here his whole life and it was so far out into the woods that people rarely came by. But when they did, they usually reacted like this- wide eyes and slack jaws. 

The Hale house was a gorgeous monstrosity right in the heart of Beacon Hills Forest. It towered three stories, taller than some of the trees that surrounded it. It had a large wrap around porch, red shudders, and a stark white exterior. All of the lights were on, giving it the appearance that it actually glowed. It looked like a picture from Stiles’ storybook. Like the castle from Cinderella and the cottage of Snow White all at the same time.

“You actually live here?!” Stiles repeated. Derek nudged his hand in an affirmative response. “I mean, like your people live here because you’re a dog and stuff…” 

Derek nipped at his fingers when he heard laughter erupt from inside the house.

“Ouch! Hey!” Stiles screeched as Derek bit the sleeve of his red hoodie and started pulling him toward the house. They made it up the front steps when the door opened and four smiling faces greeted them. 

“Well hello there, little one.” A smiling young man said, extending his hand to Stiles. Stiles looked at his wolf friend and he nodded that the man was a friend. Stiles shook his hand.

“I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski. I'm seven years old and three months.” 

“Very nice to meet you, Stiles. I’m Peter. Seven years and three months? You're practically a grown up! Thank you very much for bringing him home.” Peter said with a smile, gesturing to the wolf, where Stiles still had a hand resting on his head. 

“You’re welcome!” Stiles beamed. “What’s his name?”

“Beta. His name is Beta.” A pretty dark haired girl answered. Stiles thought he heard the wolf growl, but the girl started to laugh. “I’m Laura.” 

“Hi, Laura. You’re pretty.” Stiles said. Laura laughed again. The wolf just rolled his eyes. 

“Well, Beta, why don’t you go upstairs and get Derek, please.” An older woman instructed. The wolf huffed and slunk past them into the house. He looked back at Stiles to assure him that he was safe before he ran up the stairs. 

“Now, Stiles, why don’t you come inside? It’s chilly outside,” Peter said, stepping aside so Stiles could come inside.

“Did you know your dog can understand people when they talk?!” Stiles exclaimed as he entered and kicked off his shoes by the front door.

“You don’t say…” Laura said, barely containing her laughter as she took Stiles’ hand and dragged him toward the kitchen.

Derek shifted back before he could even close the door to his room. He ripped open his dresser and pulled on clothes, not caring if they matched at all. He didn’t want to leave Stiles alone in a strange house. He had already been lost in the woods for a few hours. The kid really didn’t need to be any more traumatized by spending time with Derek’s family.  
He passed his mother on his way back down the stairs.

“Oh, no, Sheriff, he’s absolutely fine! He’s a darling little boy. Absolutely. See you soon.” She said as she hung up the phone, a huge grin spreading across her face. “Well, hello there, Derek. Have you seen Beta? Stiles has been asking about him.” 

“Ha, ha, Mom.” Derek replied flatly. She ruffled his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “The Sheriff was looking for Stiles?” He asked, nodding to the phone in her hand.

“Well of course, dear, the Sheriff’s his father.” 

“Oh. And he’s coming to pick Stiles up?”

“On his way as we speak. Go on now, go entertain your guest.” She said with a smile. Derek heard Stiles screeching as he continued into the kitchen. 

“I can’t even believe that you’ve never heard that story! It’s only the greatest story of all times!” Stiles stared at Peter in utter disbelief. He sat on his knees on a stool around the counter in the kitchen. Laura sat beside him, a hand protectively hovering over his back to ensure he didn’t fall as he flailed. Derek noticed that Stiles seemed to flail a lot. Derek’s father and Peter leaned against the counter, smiling as the little boy in the red hood spoke and simultaneously shoved cookies into his mouth.

Mom's cookies. Derek thought with a smile. He leaned in the doorway and observed.

“I’m all ears if you would like to share the story,” Peter offered. Stiles put the remaining bites of his cookie onto his plate and began telling the story of Robin Hood.   
Derek couldn’t help but notice how animated the boy was as he acted out the story, using the voices even though he told the story from memory. Derek just knew that Stiles probably had hundreds of friends at his school. People probably lined up to hear his stories, to watch his little one-man-shows, and to sit with him at lunch. Derek was completely enthralled by the story, as was everyone else. When Stiles finished, the kitchen erupted in applause. 

“Oh, Derek, did you get to hear the story?!” Laura squealed, looking affectionately at Stiles.

“Every word.”

“Stiles, this is my son, Derek.” Mr. Hale said, as Derek slowly entered the kitchen and stood on the other side of Stiles. “Beta is his… wolf…” 

Peter and Laura snickered at Mr. Hale, but Derek didn’t pay them any attention.

“Hi, Derek. I’m Stiles. I really like Beta. He saved me. Is he going to come back?”

“Uh… he’s sleeping. But it’s nice to... meet you, Stiles.” Derek offered with a smile. Stiles reached out and grabbed his hand, absolutely beaming with a smile.

“I’ve made so many new friends tonight!” He exclaimed as he pried his eyes away from Derek and turned to the rest of the Hale family. They all nodded in agreement.

“I’m sure you make friends all the time…” Derek muttered under his breath.

“I really, really don’t.” Stiles responded, turning back to face him with all the gravity in the world.

Luckily, the doorbell rang before anybody else could say anything.   
…

“Oh, that must be your father!” Mrs. Hale declared in her beautiful singsong voice as she went to the front door. 

“Oh this isn’t going to be good…” Stiles muttered under his breath and sunk a little bit into his chair. Laura ran a hand over his short hair reassuringly. Derek just stayed beside him. Because he had met Stiles in his wolf form, he had an undeniable instinct to protect him. Surely, the Sheriff didn’t pose an actual threat, but that didn’t stop Derek from tensing when his mother opened the door. 

“Sheriff Stilinski! Please come in.”

“Good evening, Sasha.” The Sheriff said politely as he stepped into the house. He waved to Peter and Mr. Hale in the kitchen. “Peter, William.”

“John, come on in. I believe we found something of yours, and I’m afraid if you don’t take him soon, he might just stay here forever.” Mr. Hale said with a smile.

“Not that we mind!” Laura chimed in. Stiles sunk even lower into his chair so that his nose was level with the counter. Derek pulled the red hood over his head. Stiles grinned up at the older boy as if he was the accomplice in the greatest crime ever committed. Derek fought back a smile as the Sheriff stepped into the kitchen.

“Ah, I see he hasn’t forgotten any of his manners…” 

Stiles begrudgingly sat up and pulled the hood off, but he didn’t look at his father. He hadn’t ever planned what would happen after he returned from his adventure, mostly because he hadn’t planned on his adventure being so short. Stiles didn’t know what time it was, but he knew it was late. Maybe even past his bedtime. He hoped he could still get his mom to read him a bedtime story or two when he got home. If he wasn’t in too much trouble. 

“Son?” 

“Yes sir.” Stiles said as he straightened up and swiveled on his chair to get down. Laura helped him off the stool and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He wanted to hold onto her hand forever, but instead he reached up and pulled his backpack from where it hung off the chair.

“I really can’t thank you enough for finding him. His mother and I were worried sick. And just… thank you.” The Sheriff said, clearly not finding the words that he wanted to say. He reached out a hand for his son, and Stiles let go of Laura to take it. He looked longingly back at Laura and Derek as if they were millions of miles away. 

“You know, Sheriff, if you wanted to repay us…” Laura started. Sheriff Stilinski looked at her with an unmistakably shocked expression awash on his face. Derek slapped her arm.

“Laura Hale!” Mrs. Hale chided. Laura just continued as if nothing had happened.

“You could let me babysit Stiles every once in a while. I could pick him up after school and take him home, or just on the weekends if you ever needed a sitter. I mean, it would definitely be a way to repay the favor.”

Stiles stared at Laura in disbelief. She smiled at him and offered a quick wink before turning back to his father. He looked at Derek as if to ask would you be there too?   
Derek nodded slightly. Laura picked him up after school too, so whether he liked it or not he would be there. He couldn’t say that he minded. 

Stiles looked up at his dad with all the hope in the world in his eyes. 

“Dad, please.” He pleaded, tugging at his hand. Mr. Stilinski looked at his son with a curious look.

“What’s your rate?”

“I’ll work for snacks and fairytales.” 

“Done. How does tomorrow sound?”

“Perfect. 3:00 at Beacon Hills Elementary?”

“That’s the one.”

“Alright then. Stiles, you got that? Tomorrow you’re looking for the…”

“Black Camaro.” Laura said with a smile.

“Right… It’s a deal.” The Sheriff agreed and extended his free hand to shake Laura’s. Laura looked at him with a stern expression and the Sheriff couldn't help but laugh a little. Stiles squealed excitedly. The Hales laughed quietly. “Well, Will, your daughter drives a hard bargain."

"I have no idea where she gets her negotiating skills from..." Mr. Hale noted, as a day trader on the New York Stock Exchange. Negotiating and arguing ran in the family. Hale family debates at the dinner table were legendary and Derek never won. He rolled his eyes at his father's terrible joke. "Well, I think it’s time for us to go. Stiles? What do you s-”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He said, pulling away from his father to hug Laura. 

Everyone was laughing this time and Stiles wasn’t so afraid of being in trouble anymore. He made his way around the kitchen, hugging and thanking Peter, Mr. Hale, and Mrs. Hale. Normally Stiles would have been more inhibited and felt awkward about hugging people he met only an hour earlier, but the Hales were different. They were warm and welcoming, each in their different way. Peter seemed oddly youthful, a strange spark behind his eyes ignited whenever he smiled. Mrs. Hale made Stiles feel warm with just a smile or a comforting word, every word a song of its own. Mr. Hale had a map of soft wrinkles across his face, telling Stiles the tales of each time he laughed, each time he cried, and each time he had grounded Laura or Derek. Laura was beautiful just like her mother, with soft brown eyes and an instinct to care. 

And Derek was Derek. Stiles hadn’t quite figured him out yet, but he would. He was really good at puzzles. And Stiles really loved people. 

He finally made his way to Derek to say goodbye. He hugged him too, his head level with Derek’s stomach. He felt Derek awkwardly hug him back in an unsure way, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his arms or how tightly to hold on or when to let go. Stiles pulled away and looked up with a smile.

“Make sure you bring Beta. And give him a hug for me too.” 

“Sure thing…” Derek agreed, still unsure exactly what to think about the little boy with the red hood. 

He was still unsure as he watched Stiles return to his father, bid one final farewell, and leave. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Laura gushing about how adorable Stiles was and his mother scolding Laura for being disrespectful to the Sherriff. He walked up to his room and searched for a book on his bookshelf, finding it and flipping through it. 

Derek fell asleep reading Little Red Riding Hood because it struck him that he couldn’t quite remember how it actually ended. Stiles had changed the ending, he learned.  
Stiles changed a lot of things, he would learn. 

Including the radio stations in the car on the way home. He couldn’t seem to settle on one as they drove through the woods, down the Hale’s long driveway, and back onto the road to home. His father had been oddly quiet once they left. Sometimes Stiles thought that his father spent so much time talking to adults that he forgot how to talk to kids, even his own son. That was okay because Stiles had his mom and she always knew exactly what to say. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Stiles…” His father finally breathed when they pulled in the driveway. He exhaled so long that Stiles thought he might had been holding his breath the whole way home.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Just, what were you thinking, son?”

“I just wanted to go on an adventure.” 

The Sheriff turned to his son in the dark car and gave him a disapproving look.

“An adventure?”

“Yeah, you know like in the storybook. I needed to go on an adventure.” Stiles explained.

“Why?”

“Because. There was something I needed to do.” 

“And what exactly was so important that you felt like you needed to run off into the woods and get lost?”

“I need to save Mommy.” 

The Sheriff said nothing after that. He just leaned across the middle console and kissed his son’s forehead. He didn’t want to lie to his son, but he didn’t want to elaborate either. Stiles was only seven and was one of the smartest people he had ever met. They knew they couldn’t keep it from him from much longer, but they wanted him to enjoy a normal childhood. Laura offering to babysit had been just the break they needed, just the perfect distraction for Stiles. 

Stiles was only seven and he needed to be only seven for a little while longer, the Sheriff thought as he stood in the doorway, fondly watching Stiles fall asleep to the sound of his mother’s voice as she read him a bedtime story.

Just a little while longer.


	4. Chapter 4

The second Stiles burst through the front doors of Beacon Hills Elementary and saw a sleek black Camaro waiting at the front of the carpool line, he knew nothing would ever be the same. It was the first time in his whole life that he hadn’t ran straight to the powder blue Jeep and jumped in the backseat, barely even waiting until the door was open to tell his mother about his day. 

Stiles didn’t know whether he should run to the car or wait for Laura to come get him, so he settled for an awkward saunter. He didn’t want to seem overeager. What if Derek was in the car? He had to be cool. However, he nearly abandoned all of his reserve when he saw Laura beaming behind the steering wheel. No Derek. Laura waved at him, and he smiled and broke into a run. But when he reached the car, he hesitated again. He didn’t know what to say. Laura probably didn’t want to hear all about his day.   
He calmly got in the backseat, careful of the nice leather interior. 

“Hey, kiddo!” Laura said, turning around and patting his leg. Stiles smiled.

“Hi.” He replied, shyly. 

“Oh, all of a sudden you don’t remember how to talk? I find that hard to believe.”

“Where’s Derek?” Stiles inquired. Laura replied with a smug grin.

“We’re gonna go pick him up right now. I just wanted to come get you first. I don’t think he’ll mind waiting.” 

Before Stiles could say anything else, there was a sharp knock at the window. Laura rolled it down. Coach Finstock, the elementary PE teacher and the coach of the Beacon Hills High School lacrosse team, popped his head in the passenger’s side window. Stiles yelped.

“Hey, who’re you? Bilinski, don’t you know any better than to get in the car with a stranger?” He said, peering into the backseat. Stiles didn’t like Coach Finstock.

“But she’s not…”

“Hi, Coach. I’m Laura Hale. I go to Beacon Hills High. I’m Stiles’ babysitter.” Laura explained, flashing Finstock a toothy smile. 

“Oh, right. Sasha and Will’s kid. Right. Bilinski, she’s your babysitter?” 

“Sasha and _William’s_ kid.” Stiles corrected. “She’s my babysitter.” 

Finstock’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he relented and let them leave. 

“He’s like a troll.” Stiles whispered as they drove off.

“You got that right. What fairytale has a troll?” Laura asked, and Stiles dove headfirst into the tale of the Three Billy Goat’s Gruff, abandoning all inhibitions as they drove away. Stiles didn’t even realize they had stopped until Laura started honking the horn.

“Come on, Grumpy!” She shouted. Stiles thought it odd that she should shout at someone who couldn’t hear her, but then again, he was starting to learn that Laura was an odd person.

“Laura, could you no-” Derek growled as he ripped open the front door to the car, his eyes flashing a terrifyingly brilliant blue. He stopped immediately when he took a deep breath and his head whipped around to face Stiles. Then his eyes weren’t blue anymore, but some color that Stiles hadn’t learned yet.

“Hi.” He squeaked, slumping down in the backseat.

“Hi, Stiles.” Derek said, calmly and gently. He felt terrible for frightening Stiles and even worse for not noticing he was there. He should have sensed it when he saw Laura pull up, but he had been so angry that she was late. He felt guilty for not remembering that she was going to pick up Stiles and even more so as he sensed the terror rolling off of the boy in the back seat. 

“Sorry about… that.” He whispered as he slid into the front seat. Laura slapped him in the back of the head.

“You need to behave yourself, baby brother! That is absolutely no way to act in front of our guest.” 

Stiles swore he heard Derek growling as they drove away, the rest of the ride to his house completely silent.

“So, kiddo, where’s your mom today?” Laura said as she helped Stiles settle down at the kitchen table. Derek sat in the chair beside him, still feeling guilty about frightening him. Derek wasn’t good at feelings or friends, but he didn’t want Stiles to be afraid of him. Maybe Stiles should just be friends with Beta instead. That was easier. 

“I don’t know. She’s probably taking a nap. She’s tired a lot.” Stiles answered in a low voice, his hands fidgeting uncomfortably on the table. Derek and Laura exchanged concerned looks, like maybe something was happening here. Something bigger than Laura babysitting in order to repay a debt. Maybe the Sheriff hadn’t agreed on a whim, but out of necessity. 

Neither one of them pushed. 

“Well, let’s get you a snack, how does that sound?” Laura offered with a smile, and Derek saw Stiles crack a smile for the first time since he had seen him that day. Something about Stiles smiling made Derek want to smile, which felt odd. 

Derek didn’t smile a lot because he didn’t feel like he had a lot of reasons to smile. He had a great family who loved him more than anything in the world, but they all seemed to fit in so well in the real world. None of them understood what it was like to feel out of place, to feel more at home as a wolf, to have no friends outside of his own family. Laura was wildly popular at school, and his parents knew nearly everyone in town. Derek didn’t know anyone. 

But now he knew Stiles. 

“So…” He started awkwardly as Laura searched the Stilinski kitchen for snacks. Stiles turned around to face him, seemingly frightened by the sound of his voice. Derek took a deep breath, uncertain of whether to just leave the kid alone or continue. He chose to continue. “How was your day?”

Stiles just looked at him, his eyes wide with a million questions, emotions, and stories to tell. He slowly reached over and placed a small hand on Derek’s arm.

“That thing… with your eyes…” He whispered. Derek saw Laura stop in the kitchen, but he didn’t look away from Stiles.

“Oh, that… that was… just…” He stammered, trying to think of any good excuse for why his eyes had not only changed colors, but glowed. Nothing came to mind other than, I’m a werewolf and sometimes my eyes do that.

“Can you do it again?” Stiles whispered. Laura had silently turned to watch the exchange. She didn’t offer Derek any kind of answer or advice as to what he should do. So Derek found his answer in the curious eyes of the little boy. He closed his eyes and reopened them, and a pulse of blue light flashed. Stiles gasped.

“Yeah… that’s…” Derek didn’t know what he wanted to say. He didn’t want Stiles to think he was a freak. Too many people already thought that.

“That’s…” Stiles began, equally at a loss for words. But for a different reason entirely. “That’s… SO _COOL_!” He screeched, clapping his hands together. Laura smiled fondly at the both of them and Derek exhaled the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Again! Again!”

Another flash of blue. Another ecstatic screech. 

And that’s how Laura babysitting Stiles turned into Stiles clinging to Derek whenever he walked into a room. Stiles asked Derek a million questions that he didn’t know how to answer and told him a millions stories that he wouldn’t ever forget. Derek didn’t realize that when he saved the little boy in the woods that he got to keep him too.   
…  
When they came home that evening, Sheriff and Mrs. Stilinski found Stiles wrapped up on the couch, his head in Laura’s lap and his feet stretched across Derek’s legs as the television mindlessly droned on in front of them. It was later than Laura thought it would be, but she didn’t mention a thing when the Sheriff quietly introduced Mrs. Stilinski.   
Derek couldn’t help but notice how tired she looked. He also couldn’t help but notice it was so much more than that. 

The Sherriff took Mrs. Stilinski back to her room and came back, asking Laura to join him on the porch. Laura shifted, gesturing for Derek to take her place as Stiles’ pillow. After some adjusting, Derek found himself softly stroking Stiles’ hair as he tried not to listen to the Sheriff explain the real situation to Laura. He explained why he had hired Laura so quickly because he had gone to school with their parents and he had been looking for a babysitter for quite some time. He told Laura the truth about Mrs. Stilinski, or as much of the truth as he could manage, offering her an out if she didn’t want to be involved. Derek found himself clinging tightly to Stiles as the little boy shifted in his sleep, wondering how exactly things had escalated so quickly in a matter of one day. 

However, he didn’t find himself regretting finding the boy in the red hood at all, but rather realizing he was supposed to. Derek hadn’t ever found where he was supposed to be, but as he heard his sister tell the Sheriff that she and her family would be there for whatever they needed, he knew that in that moment, he was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

Protecting the boy in the red hood. 

Stiles shifted in his sleep and brought a hand up to Derek’s leg, clutching tightly at his pants. Derek was only twelve years old when he learned how it felt to fall in love with someone. Not in a romantic sense, or anything more than just wanting to be with them, be anything they needed you to be. For now, Derek was a pillow. Tomorrow, he would be Stiles’ friend. And when Stiles would look at him with those big brown questioning eyes and ask him for help with his history homework, Derek would be an encyclopedia. When Stiles would trip, which was often, and scrape his knees, he would come to Derek with tears in his eyes and Derek would be a doctor. 

And when Stiles wanted to go on an adventure in the woods, Derek would be sick for the day and Beta would go with him. He listened intently to all the fears and doubts the little boy wouldn’t dare share with someone who could respond. Stiles recited the fairytales without the book now, sharing his stories with the little black wolf in the most adventurous place he knew.

So the babysitting turned into Stiles being invited over to the Hales every Friday night for family movie night. Derek and Laura stayed with Stiles every day after school until his parents came home. Sometimes Scott came over too, having fallen madly in love with Laura the first time he saw her picking Stiles up at school. On Stiles’ eighth birthday, they all gathered at the Stilinski house. Peter gave him The Call of the Wild, Laura proudly gave him a black stuffed wolf (and to Derek she gave a smug smile), and Derek gave him a new red hoodie as his was now too small. Whenever the Sheriff and Mrs. Stilinski had “things to do” at night, Stiles would stay at the Hales house and try not to think too much about the hushed whispers of Laura and the adults.

He tried not to think about anything as Derek read him a bedtime story, and he drifted off into sleep, his black wolf tucked into his chest. Derek would turn off the light and look fondly upon Stiles, wondering just what exactly was going through his head as he dreamed. 

“Goodnight, Little Red.” He would whisper when he left to sit on the stairs and listen to the worried chattering downstairs. 

Derek wanted to protect the little boy, but he was only a teenager. And as invincible as he was, he couldn’t stop death.


	5. Chapter 5

“Stiles, there’s something we need to tell you.” 

Stiles felt oddly small sitting at the head of the large wooden table in the Hale’s dining room with five pairs of nervous eyes staring right through him. He was ten now and still a little small for his age, but suddenly he was seven years old all over again being scolded by the Sheriff for watching a scary movie past his bedtime or stealing a cookie before dinner. 

He hadn’t meant to intrude. He had plans to come over Saturday morning and have Derek help him with his science project. They were learning about volcanoes, and Peter told him that Derek actually won an award for his volcano when he was Stiles’ age. Derek begrudgingly obliged to help him, even though Stiles knew that Derek wasn’t actually annoyed about it at all. He had long since learned that Derek usually said the exact opposite of what he meant, or at least when he was talking to Stiles. 

He had also learned the best way to walk to the Hale house, and as it turned out, if you didn’t walk your way into the middle of the forest, it actually wasn’t a far walk from his house. After his Laura had walked him there a few times, he finally convinced his parents that he could get there by himself. Derek usually met him about halfway because he didn’t like the idea of Stiles walking by himself through the woods. They tied a red ribbon around the large oak tree that marked the halfway point between their houses, just in case Stiles got lost.

But no one was there this time when he made it to the red ribbon and Stiles tried really hard not to think anything about it. 

His arms were full of supplies so Stiles resorted to using his head to knock on the door. He hadn’t even realized there was noise until he heard it all stop suddenly and the house fell eerily silent. Then footsteps, and a loud scramble before the door swung open and Peter smiled down at him. 

_Where was Derek?_  
“Hi, Stiles. Come on in. This way,” Peter said, ushering Stiles towards the rarely used dining room. The Hales were far too casual to use a formal dining room for dinner. In fact, in all the times Stiles had eaten at the house, he couldn’t think of a single time he had ever even been in the dining room, let alone eaten in there. They usually crowded around the island in the kitchen or spread out in front of the television in the large family room. 

“Peter, why… where’s Derek?” Stiles asked, suspicious of Peter’s behavior. He stopped and turned to face the man.

“Oh, he’s fine. Fine. He’ll be here in a moment.” Peter replied, stepping suddenly into Stiles’ line of vision. He smiled nervously and gestured towards the dining room. Stiles had never seen Peter act so strange as if he was trying to hide something from him. He hadn’t seen anyone act this way since his ninth birthday when his father tried to hide the group of people hiding for his surprise party. But it didn’t feel like Peter was hiding a good surprise. 

Peter tried to turn Stiles back towards the dining room but for the first time in his life, Stiles was faster.

“Der-”

An armful of paints, modeling clay, and hundreds of tiny replica trees clattered to the ground as Stiles choked on his words when he caught sight of the large red puddle sitting sickeningly stagnant in front of the stairs.

“Is that... that’s…. that’s…” He stammered, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the actual word.

_Blood._

“Stiles, it’s okay. Come sit down.” Peter said softly. Stiles flinched away from the hand that tried to pull on his arm. 

“Is that… is that… that’s Derek’s… he wasn’t…” Stiles tried to piece all of his thoughts together. Derek not waiting for him by the tree. The noise and then the sudden silence. Peter answering the door and behaving strangely. This wasn’t the surprise Stiles wanted at all.

“Derek?” He called, but there was no answer. “Derek?” 

No answer. He turned to Peter.

“Derek?”

“Stiles, he’s-“

Stiles whipped around, tears suddenly blurring his vision. The look in Peter’s eyes had told him everything. That was Derek’s blood. And there was a lot of it. 

“Derek!” he repeated, his voice rising to a desperate scream. He wanted to run, but the blood seemed to be everywhere and he couldn’t find a way around it. “Derek!”

“Stiles.” A new voice said from behind him. Stiles turned back around clumsily, his arm flying right into Derek’s chest. Derek flinched a little bit, his face pale and his expression unreadable. Stiles just stared at him in disbelief, as if he would disappear at any moment.

“Stiles, I’m okay.” Derek said, sensing the fear rolling off Stiles. That was all the assurance Stiles needed before wrapping his arms around Derek and burying his tear face into his chest.

“It’s okay,” Derek soothed, wrapping his arms around the small boy as he cried silently in relief. “I’m okay. You’re okay.”

Derek had gotten better at hugging over the past three years, discovering that Stiles was someone that not only liked to hug and be hugged, but he needed to be hugged. Stiles needed to be hugged often and preferably by someone strong and patient to compensate for all the flailing. 

“But… Derek… that blood. That’s you…” Stiles cried, his hands clutching desperately at Derek’s back. Derek squeezed him once before pushing the little boy away and gently taking his face in his hands.

“Hey. I’m right here, Stiles. I’m not going anywhere.” Derek promised. Stiles sniffled in return, unsure if he actually believed Derek or if one more person in his life decided to keep secrets. He got enough of that from his mom and his dad and Stiles had seen enough movies to know that there was a lot of blood. Too much blood. 

“Stiles, honey, why don’t you come in here and have a seat. I think there’s something we need to talk about.” Mrs. Hale said, gesturing to the dining room where Peter, Laura, and Mr. Hale were already seated, looking at Stiles and Derek with worried expressions. A pile of paints, clay, and tiny trees sat at the head of the table.

And soon so did Stiles. 

“Stiles, we’re not like other families.” Peter began, clasping his hands together in front of them as if he was about to start a long monologue. But the look on his face said he didn’t have a damn clue what to say, so he turned to his brother.

“What Peter is trying to say is that all families are different.” Mr. Hale continued. “Each has something special. Sometimes they share it with the rest of the world, and sometimes they don’t.” He offered with the vaguest excuse for an explanation that Stiles had ever heard. This was just like the time his mom and his dad had sat him down at the kitchen table and tried to explain why his mom was so tired all the time.

Stiles immediately pushed that from his mind. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want this to be like that.

“Like a secret?” Stiles squeaked when he realized how intently everyone was watching him. Derek found Stiles’ hand nervously picking at a loose string on his jeans and carefully took it away. He wrapped his hand around the little boy’s hand and gently squeezed. Five pairs of ears listened to his heart, but Derek was the only one who could actually feel just how fast it was racing. 

“Yes, dear. Exactly like a secret.” Laura agreed, with her comforting smile. Stiles took a deep breath and tried to smile in return, trying to think what this could be about. They all seemed to be ignoring the puddle of blood, or maybe they would get to that later, but Stiles couldn’t wait.

“Is this about the werewolf thing?”


	6. Chapter 6

Derek dropped his hand because it suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. His heart leapt into his throat and his face flushed instantly. Derek turned to his father and suddenly noticed that all of the eyes in the room had turned to him.

“What?” Mr. Hale asked, his voice sounding hoarse even though a moment ago he had been fine. 

“Like, you know, that you guys are werewolves? Is this about that?” Stiles repeated, elaborating this time. Mrs. Hale went completely pale and Peter’s nervous hands went completely still.

“Derek? Did you..?” Laura asked, even though she already knew the answer. 

Laura had been around Stiles just as much as Derek had. She would have known if Derek told him. Derek shook his head in horror. Telling their family’s secret was absolutely unthinkable, even to Stiles whom he trusted more than anyone. It was not just his secret to share. 

“Derek didn’t tell me. I figured it out.” Stiles said cautiously. And then all the eyes were back on him.

“H-how? How, Stiles? How?” Derek stammered, blinking incredulously at the little boy. The others seemed to ask the same question, only with their eyes.

“Well, I’ve been around for a while. And I’m really smart, okay? I mean, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that I can’t come over during a full moon or that whenever Beta is around you aren’t…” He explained, poking Derek in the leg. Derek flinched. “I mean, I read a lot of stories, okay, it didn’t take me long to figure out that I was in one.”

“But, why didn’t you say anything?” Peter inquired, a small smile lingering at the side of his mouth. He almost seemed proud of Stiles.

“Because no one else did either. I just thought it was one of those things that we didn’t talk about like my mom or politics or my dad’s drinking. Or that Laura can’t do math.” Stiles answered so matter-of-factly, as if he had been talking about the weather and not problems that no ten year old should ever have to deal with. Not a single person around the table could think of a good argument. 

“Wait a minute.” Laura responded. “I can do math.” 

“Then why do you always get Derek to help me with my math homework?” Stiles asked, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Because Derek actually likes to do math. I don’t like to do it. That doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Peter, Sasha, and William all stared at the kids in silence before bursting into laughter. They couldn’t believe they had been so worried that Stiles would be afraid or angry or anything at all but a ten year old boy who knows more about the world than they did sometimes. Soon, Laura and Stiles joined in and last of all, Derek. 

Derek had gone over a million different scenarios in his mind about telling Stiles his greatest secret. He wasn’t ever going to, not without permission from the rest of the family, but he wanted to know what it would be like. He wanted to know what it would be like to say the words I’m a werewolf out loud to someone who didn’t know what that was like. He had thought of a million different scenarios, and not one of them had ended like this. Stiles found his hand under the table again and squeezed tightly, as if to promise that the secret was safe with him. 

Derek felt truly free for the first time. He wasn’t restrained by his need to hide who he really was, like he did at school every day. He didn’t have to pretend that his wolf was a completely separate being anymore. He wouldn’t have to lie about being gone on a full moon or feel guilty when he couldn’t think of a good explanation when he got a little too angry. Stiles knew all of these things, and apparently had for a long time. 

And he loved Derek just the same. 

Eventually, the laughter subsided and Stiles asked all of the questions he had always wanted to ask. He learned that Derek and Laura had gotten in a fight earlier that morning, and subsequently learned about the ability to heal supernaturally fast. He learned about lunar cycles and shifting and a million other things as Peter, an expert on werewolf lore, explained their family secret at length. Stiles learned that Mr. Hale was the Alpha, and that the Hales were a pack. He learned that everyone else was a Beta, and laughed at a joke  
Laura had made three years earlier.

Stiles held Derek’s hand the whole time because even though he had known, discovering supernatural in the natural world was a little overwhelming. Derek anchored him to reality and Stiles knew that no matter what, Derek was still Derek. And Beta. Derek was Beta, too. 

After a while, Mrs. Hale decided that was enough for today and mentioned that Stiles needed to get to work on his project. She offered to make cookies, but Laura saw Stiles yawn and suggested that he take a nap instead. Stiles wanted to agree with them both, but found himself ultimately siding with Laura as his eyes grew heavier by the second. Derek offered his bed to Stiles as he always did. Stiles nodded and started towards the stairs, unable to forget the blood that was no longer there. 

Derek was fifteen now and his walls were covered with band and movie posters. Dirty clothes were strewn all over the room and Derek made Stiles wait in the hallway while he put away a few “teenage” things and made the room appropriate for a ten-year-old boy who just wanted to take a nap. He pulled back the sheets of his bed and lifted Stiles into it, pulling off his shoes and carefully tucking him in. He ran a hand thoughtfully across Stiles’ head, and Stiles grabbed it when he tried to pull away.

“Derek?”

“Yeah, Stiles?”

“Are you going to forget about me when you grow up?” Stiles asked through a yawn. Derek sat down on the side of the bed.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re all cool and grown up now and I’m just a little-”

“You’re not just anything, Stiles. You are my friend. You will always be my friend.” Derek promised as he squeezed the little boy’s hand. He knew that his promises were serious, but he knew that he couldn’t forget about Stiles even if he wanted to. Derek was in high school now, but to him that didn’t make anything different. Stiles was his only friend, and even though he was starting to grow up, he never grew out of loving Stiles. “Now go to sleep.”

“Okay. I love you, Der...” Stiles whispered as his eyelids fluttered shut. Derek felt his heart stop for a moment.

Stiles had never said those words out loud. 

“I… you too, Stiles.” He whispered back, not pleased with himself at all for not being able to return the sentiment. It had only taken him three years to learn how to hug, surely in another five he would then learn how to talk about his feelings, and then maybe ten more after that he would understand them. 

Derek loved Stiles, even if he couldn’t say it. He loved Stiles because he was a million things that he wasn’t. But he loved Stiles mostly because he was a million things that he wanted to be and be with, even as a ten-year-old boy with a head full of fairytales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovely angels! :)   
> I hope you all are enjoying this and I'm going to update it as often as I can.  
> just a heads up though,  
> the next few chapters aren't as nice and fluffy as these  
> so prepare yourselves...  
> much love!   
> :)


	7. Chapter 7

Derek hated himself every time he said goodbye to Stiles and Laura and went to meet Kate. He hated himself because he couldn’t tell them where he was going or who he was going to see. He hated himself because it felt so good to be with Kate, even if she wouldn’t admit it. But most of all he hated the look on Stiles’ face every time he shut the door behind him.

It was the expression of anguish and loneliness in those big brown eyes that convinced Derek to break up with Kate every time. Until he got to her apartment and saw her lying on the couch, waiting for him. 

Derek was sixteen. He barely knew which direction was up when there was a half-naked girl in the room.

Because of his parents’ urging, Derek joined the lacrosse team when he started his sophomore year. As it turned out, being a werewolf made you really good at lacrosse and before he knew it, he was the captain of the team. People finally started noticing him, or at least the Derek that he let them see. The one who was incredibly strong and smiled every once in a blue moon, but other than that presented one giant mystery.

Girls loved mysteries. Especially mysteries with athletic muscles wrapped nicely in black leather.

Derek had just turned sixteen when he met Kate Argent. He ran into her at the grocery store, of all places. Derek never went to the grocery store, especially not by himself. But he had just gotten his license two days earlier and he wanted an excuse, any excuse, to drive Laura’s black Camaro. Stiles wanted cookies shaped like various animal creatures because he liked to name them and tell stories about them before he ate them. 

As he got older, Derek saw Stiles’ stories get a little bit darker. They all saw Mrs. Stilinski get a little bit sicker. Oddly enough, Derek hadn’t made the connection until he stood in the aisle of cookies and crackers, contemplating whether Stiles would want his cookies with frosting or without.

“My, aren’t you a handsome little thing.” A voice said, uncomfortably close. He turned quickly and nearly dropped the box of cookies when he found himself face to face with an intimidatingly beautiful blonde. 

“Excuse me?” He asked, unsure if she was talking to him even though he could hear that they were the only two in the aisle. Derek internally kicked himself for sounding exactly like a dorky teenage boy. Apparently, the popularity didn’t give him the suave attitude he hoped for. Despite his awkwardness, the girl laughed.

“You are just… I could just eat you up.” She said, examining Derek in a way that made his inside catch fire. He hadn’t ever had someone look at him like that. Not any of the girls at school, not even Stiles made him feel that way. The way Stiles looked at him made him feel like someone could actually see him. But this girl was something else entirely. “I’m Kate,” she said, extending her hand.

“D-Derek.” He said as he shook, something thin and papery being pressed against his palm.

“Well, Derek, maybe I’ll see you around sometime.” She whispered, her breath a hot wave of desire against his ear. And then, just like that, Kate was gone.  
A few minutes later, Derek looked down at his hand. A piece of paper was flat against his palm. Kate Argent, Consultant, it read, with an address and phone number underneath.  
Derek left the grocery store and had to face an angry Stiles when he returned home empty-handed.

The next day Derek found himself leaving Stiles’ house in the middle of the afternoon, saying he had a chemistry project to work on with his lab partner. Neither Stiles nor Laura knew that Derek wasn’t even in chemistry, and only heard him promise to be back for dinner. He drove the black Camaro to an apartment building on the edge of town, walked up three flights of stairs, and knocked exactly twice on the door labeled 311. One second passed before the door swung open and Kate stood, wearing nothing but a towel. 

Every instinct Derek had told him to leave, to go home, to run back down the three flights of stairs and never come back. 

But instead he took a step forward and pressed his lips to Kate’s, because he just wanted to know what it would be like. 

When Derek drove the Camaro back to Stiles’ house later that night, it was dark and the air felt heavy. His whole body felt heavy as he stepped inside the house, Stiles’ eyes on him in an instant. He just stared at him, inspecting him, as if he knew what had just happened. Stiles’ gaze went right through him. 

Derek couldn’t look at Stiles for the rest of the night.  
…  
Derek started showing up less and less after school, until Stiles didn’t see him at all. Laura and Stiles drove to the hospital in silence the day his mother was indefinitely checked in. Laura held his hand as they walked down the hallway, but Stiles didn’t feel her hand at all. All he could feel was the big gaping hole in his chest where Derek promised he would always be, and now he just wasn’t.

He felt oddly alone in the room with his father, Laura, Scott, and his mother. For the first time, Stiles didn’t know what to do or to say. His mind felt completely blank. He didn’t have any stories. None of them seemed important or good enough to tell while his mother sat uncomfortably in the hospital bed. 

Scott broke the silence.

“You know, Mrs. Stilinski, the jello here is really great.” 

And for the first time in a long time, Stiles saw his mother smile. It was a nice sight, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty that he didn’t have anything to do with it. Stiles had made a promise that he was going to find a way to save his mother. He might have been older now, undeniably wiser, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t her Little Prince. He was going to save her. 

“And did Stiles ever tell you about the SUPER HUGE crush he has on Lydia Martin? Because it’s getting out of control, Mrs. Stilinski. Honestly. Your kid is crazy.” Scott continued even after Stiles punched him in the arm.

Laura stayed that day until it got dark outside, and Scott’s mom, a nurse, let Stiles and the Sheriff stay a little after visitor hours. Stiles started to doze against his mother’s side and the Sheriff decided it was time to go home. 

“You stay, John. I’ll take the boys home. Stiles can stay with us tonight,” Ms. McCall said. Scott looked at Stiles with an excited look and Stiles mirrored it the best he could as he slid off his mother’s bed. 

“Bye, Mommy.” He whispered. She pulled him into a gentle hug. 

“Goodnight, my little Prince.” 

Stiles felt oddly alone as he snuggled next to Scott that night, afraid to let his friend see the tears streaming down his cheeks. Scott said nothing as he draped an arm around his friend and held him close as he cried himself to sleep. 

The hole that Derek left got a little bit smaller every time Scott went with Stiles to the hospital, or pretended not to notice when tears filled his eyes every time he said goodbye. It got smaller when Laura held his hand and when Stiles still went to the Hale’s every Friday night, greeted by the smiling faces of Peter, Sasha, and William. He didn’t ask about Derek because he knew he wasn’t there and asking about Derek would make the hole grow again.

So the hole got smaller, but it never ever went away.


	8. Chapter 8

Derek desperately scans his mind for anything that could have gotten him called to the office as he walks down the long hall of Beacon Hills High School. The phone had rung and Mr. Harris beckoned him to his desk while the rest of the class continued working silently. 

“Derek, you need to go to the office.” He said quietly, a terrible expression washed across his face. In his teacher’s eyes, Derek saw something he hadn’t seen before. 

_Sympathy._

And as he was walking, suddenly a thought hit him. They knew. The office knew about him and Kate. 

Kate was older than he was, by more than a few years. Derek knew that when he went to her the first time, and he knew it every time after that. She was intelligent and talented and absolutely amazing. She taught Derek things and he learned to trust her. And he knew that even if she didn’t return the sentiment when he said I love you that she meant it deep down. And he wasn’t going to let some administration tell him he couldn’t see her anymore, he thought as he entered the office. 

“Derek.” 

Laura stood by the front desk, her face stained with mascara streaked tears. Sheriff Stilinski stood beside her, a comforting arm around her shoulders, his face unreadable. They knew, Derek thought. They knew. As he opened his mouth to speak, Laura held up a hand to silence him. 

“Derek, just…” Laura whispered, but she couldn’t finish her sentence. Derek closed his eyes and tried to sense her emotions. He searched for disappointment, anger, confusion, anything that could help him plan a defense. His eyes shot open when he found something else entirely.

_Loss._

“Laura, what… what’s going on?” He asked quietly, looking to his sister and to the Sheriff for an answer. If something happened, why weren’t his parents there? Why wasn’t Peter there? “Laura, where’s mom and dad?” 

Laura turned into the Sheriff’s shoulder and started to sob relentlessly. 

“Where’s mom and dad?” Derek repeated, desperate now. Any thoughts of Kate were so far from his mind he barely even knew she existed.

“There was a fire, Derek.” The Sheriff said in a low voice, but Derek heard it even through his sister’s sobs. “I’m sorry, Derek. I’m so sorry.”

Derek’s backpack slipped off his arm and his books clattered to the ground. He backed away from the Sheriff and from Laura, backed out of the office, and tore out of the front doors of the school. The scent hit him like a train.

_Smoke._

He ran away from the school and into the woods. He didn’t shift. Derek barely even knew he was a werewolf. He barely knew anything as the scent guided him, filling his lungs and choking him. He didn’t stop. 

Where his house towered in the forest now stood a burned out shell. Where his mother’s garden grew in the front yard was now trampled by the tire tracks of a dozen police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks. Where his front door was stood Kate Argent. Derek ran to her, but she held out a hand to stop him.

“Step aside, wolfboy.” She whispered, her voice low and rough, cutting right into Derek. “Or you’re next.” 

Derek wanted to throw up. He wanted to scream and cry and tear Kate into a million pieces. He wanted to run to his mom and tell her everything and apologize until he couldn’t speak. But all he could think of were his own words.

“Tell me a secret,” Kate had whispered, her lips soft and warm against his neck. Derek wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

“I don’t have any secrets,” Derek replied, knowing that there was nothing exciting enough to tell Kate. He was only sixteen. Being captain of the lacrosse team didn’t seem like an appropriate thing to share with his twenty-something secret girlfriend. Kate was exciting and mysterious and nothing Derek could say would be enough for her.

“Everybody has secrets, sweetheart.” Her voice was smooth like honey. 

“I… I don’t.” 

Kate pulled away and started to cover herself with the sheets, slipping her feet into the shoes beside her bed.

“Wait, where are you going?” Derek asked, embarrassed by how small and desperate his voice sounded.

“I think this thing is over, kid.” She said coldly. Derek watched helplessly as she started to get dressed. He didn’t want her to leave. Kate was the first person who looked at Derek as if he was someone to actually be desired, someone she actually wanted. Everyone else at school just acted like he was a star, someone far above them that they couldn’t actually reach so no one ever tried. And then there was Stiles. Derek tried not to think about Stiles.

“I… I’m a werewolf.” 

Derek should have run away the instant she turned back to him, a terrifyingly predatorial look in her eyes. He should have told his parents, his family that he had made a mistake. He should have left Kate and gone back to spending every afternoon in blissful fairytale ignorance with Stiles. Derek shouldn’t have tried to grow up so fast.

“You did this…” Derek whispered. Kate just pinched his cheek and smiled. His skin burned.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m in the business of… let’s call it extermination. I would have gotten you too, but we have a policy against you know… killing _children_.” 

And for the first time since Derek started seeing Kate, he felt like a child. Even more than he wanted to rip her heart out, he wanted to reach into his chest and rip out his own. It thundered in his ears and reminded him that he was alive. Derek was fucking alive and his family wasn’t. And that was his fault. 

Derek turned around and held on to what was left of the charred railing that ran around the porch. He stopped breathing because he couldn't even remember how. 

"I was pretty sure when I came into town. I mean, the Hales are practically legendary. But there's this... code, I guess, that everyone insists I followed. So I just had to be sure. And you said you didn't have any secrets..." 

Derek didn't even have to turn to look at her to know she was smiling. That smile she only smiled for Derek, that once made his stomach jump. Now it made him want to rip it off her face and claw his own stomach out. He turned back to her suddenly because he remembered something so terrible that Derek thought he was going to die. 

“There were children… There were children in there…” Derek said, pointing at the remains of his house. The Hales had been having a reunion that weekend and all of his relatives had come into town. They were in there. His whole family. They were all in there.

“ _Oops._ ”

He heard Kate talking to him, yelling after him as he ran away, back into the woods. He couldn’t watch as they soaked his house with water and tore it apart as if it was nothing. As if it wasn’t a home to an entire family, and the castle of the small boy in the red hood. As if people hadn’t died, burned alive, betrayed by their own blood. As if they hadn't sat around the television in the living room watching Lifetime movies on Friday night because Peter and Laura loved to change the dialogue, but they always made it better. 

Laura, he thought. She was alive but she might as well have been as dead as everyone else. At least on the inside. 

Derek fell against the tree with the red ribbon and sobbed. He screamed and he howled and clawed viciously at the bark, uncaring that his fingers bled as he cut relentlessly into the tree. His claws broke and then his nails and he felt the bones of his fingers strain under the pressure, but he didn't feel pain. Because his body was so flooded with pain he felt numb. He wanted to tear the whole fucking thing down on top of himself. Derek wanted to die.

“Derek.” A quiet voice whispered behind him. Derek stopped and turned, partially shifted and bloody. 

Stiles stood silently, his red hood pulled safely over his head. 

“Go away.” Derek growled. Stiles didn’t move.

“Come with me.”

“ _Go. Away._ ” He repeated, snapping his jaw at the boy. Stiles didn’t even flinch.

“Derek. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, reaching out and gently taking Derek’s hand, careful not to touch his claws. “I’m so sorry. I’m so… I’m sorry.” 

Derek couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Stiles. It had been weeks, maybe months, and he barely recognized him. Stiles had grown and now stood tall, his head reaching Derek’s shoulder. Calling him the little boy in the red hood seemed silly now as he wasn’t so little anymore. His eyes looked tired, too tired for someone with his level of hyperactivity and youthfulness. He looked as though he had seen a million things he never wanted to and take them all back, but Derek wasn’t one of them. Even after he left, Stiles never regretted being friends with Derek.

“Stiles, I…” Derek whispered, his voice trailing off. Stiles put a finger up to his lips and stopped him.

“No. Come with me.” Stiles pulled on Derek’s wrist until he was trailing along behind him on the path to Stiles’ house. Derek felt his fangs and claws retract as he laced his fingers through Stiles’ for the first time in a long time.

Neither one of them said anything the whole way. Stiles led Derek into the house, past his father and Laura and a few others he didn’t recognize up the stairs and into the bathroom. He washed Derek’s hands and helped him out of his sweatshirt, cleaning him of the blood that stained his skin. He led him into this bedroom and pulled back the sheets, sitting Derek on the edge so he could remove his shoes. He helped Derek under the covers and slipped in beside him, letting Derek muffle his cries into Stiles’ side.  
Derek cried harder when Stiles said it’s not your fault because he didn’t know. 

_He couldn’t ever know._  
…

Derek was gone when Stiles woke up the next morning. The space next to him on the bed wasn’t even warm, telling him that Derek had left hours ago. Stiles wished he had realized that when his eyes fluttered closed long after Derek had cried himself to sleep that that would be the last time he would see Derek for a very long time.   
He didn’t see Derek at the funeral. Stiles sat next to Laura in the front row as her family, and as they lowered bodies in the ground he no longer felt bad for Derek. He grew angry at Derek. He should have been here holding Laura’s hands. He should have been a shoulder for Laura to cry on. He should have stepped up and taken responsibility because his parents raised him to be a leader. 

Stiles was only eleven. He shouldn’t know how to deal with death.

For a few weeks, Laura stayed at the Stilinski house because she didn’t want to go back to her apartment and taking over full time care of Stiles proved to be a wonderful distraction. The Sherriff soon split all his time between the police station and the hospital, the only times he saw his son were when they crossed paths in a dreary hospital room.   
Stiles began a routine of waking up, fighting his way to focus in school, and rushing to Laura’s car so he could see his mother as much as possible. Even though his backpack was always filled with books, he never forgot the book of fairytales. It was even more worn now as Stiles read aloud to his mother every day, flipping page after page, telling story after story. Sometimes Laura stayed with him, sometimes she went to work and Scott stayed instead. Because for all the words that Stiles knew, not one of them came out when he saw his mother pale and fragile in the hospital bed.

Scott and Laura would provide polite chatter when Stiles finished reading and Mrs. Stilinski, if she could, would respond appropriately. On the nights that it was just Stiles and his mom, they would sit in silence. Stiles watched his mom diligently, never letting go of her hand. He made sure he said goodbye to her every night, but not in a way that made it seem like he was doing it just in case. 

“Goodnight, my little Prince,” she would always whisper and Stiles always left with a smile. Whether it was fake or true he would never tell. 

Derek knew. He knew it was fake, and he could tell even from a mile away. He had been to the funeral, but he didn’t feel like he deserved to sit with Laura, to take up the role of family, when he had been the one that had destroyed it all. He even lived in the burned out shell of his house because he didn’t deserve to be anywhere else. He might not have lit the match but he sparked something else entirely just because he wanted to be wanted. And he hated himself even more when he realized he already was.  
He followed Stiles to the hospital every afternoon and stood outside the window, listening to him tell familiar stories. Stiles even did the voices and that made Derek smile a tiny smile that pulled at the edges of his mouth. But something about Stiles was different now, and Derek didn’t know what it was. He was too far away to sense anything, but he could smell the anxiety from miles away. He could also smell the sickness from Mrs. Stilinski and he knew.

Derek followed Laura and Stiles to the Stilinski house, and even though she had moved back into her apartment, she made sure Stiles had dinner and promised to pick him up the next morning. Stiles smiled his beautifully rehearsed smile and locked the door when she left, sitting down to eat dinner alone. He would turn on the television and not watch a thing, but Derek knew it was just because he had to fill up the empty house with noise or he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Stiles would go upstairs and tuck himself into bed without a bedtime story because Stiles was twelve now. He had celebrated his twelfth birthday in a crowded hospital room without Derek. And twelve-year-olds didn’t need bedtime stories. 

Derek knew that wasn’t why he stopped.

The first night Laura and Sherriff Stilinski were both gone, Stiles had turned off his lights and cried. He cried into his pillow, muttering nonsense in between sobs. Derek stood outside the window helplessly, wanting nothing more than to go inside and wrap his arms around the boy and promise him that everything would be alright.  
But he couldn’t. Derek had left and he had no right to be friends with Stiles anymore. 

He kept telling himself that even after he heard the first clear word out of Stiles’ mouth right before the boy fell asleep.

“ _Derek…_ ”  
…


	9. Chapter 9

_“Goodnight, my little Prince.”_

Stiles heard the steady beep of the monitor ringing in his hears long after he left the room, walked blindly down the hall, and stepped out into the cold January night. Or morning. He didn’t know and it didn’t really matter. He didn’t feel cold, even though he had left his jacket draped over the back of the horrible green reclining chair in that room. 

_That_ room. 

Stiles didn’t feel cold. He didn’t feel anything at all. 

His feet struck the pavement with such great force that Stiles finally realized he was running. Fast. He had run away from the hospital and the steady beeping and people who called his name. He ran fast towards somewhere unknown, down the middle of Main Street, past the entrance to his neighborhood, and into the dark shelter of the woods. 

He didn’t know where he was going or where he even wanted to go. All Stiles knew was that he didn’t want it to be here in Beacon Hills. He didn’t want to go home. He couldn’t sit alone in his house and be tortured by the echoes of the monitor, be smothered by the reminders of her everywhere. He saw her in the reflections of the windows of her favorite shops downtown, even though she hadn't been downtown in years. He saw her in the swingset at the park where they used to swing side by side when he was a little boy, and in the tower of the jungle-gym where he got to be the prince and she the queen. He saw her everywhere around him, and so he ran. 

Stiles ran. When he fell, he paid no attention to the cuts that started to bleed, staining the knees of his pants a sickening crimson. He would numbly rise and continue running, ignoring the aching in his chest and the sharpness of every breath as it cut into his lungs. When he clenched his fists, Stiles could feel the fragments of rock digging viciously into his palms, but he didn’t feel any pain. Just the sticky slick blood as it flowed and leaked through his clenched fingers, dripping occasionally to the forest floor. 

Stiles ran until his head pounded and his muscles burned, and he kept running a little while after that too. He ran blindly into the darkness, his hands and feet completely and entirely numb. He stopped only when he ran directly into a solid, immovable object and almost fell backwards. He caught himself on weak legs at the last second.

_“Stiles.”_

The object said in a low voice, and it wasn’t until Stiles blinked a few times that he realized he had been crying and that the object wasn't an object at all. 

It was Derek.

Derek had smelled the blood from his house, through the lingering scent of smoke and ash, even as he sat tucked away in his room. He hadn’t followed Stiles that day because he figured he needed to stop. Actually, he told himself he had to stop. He had already stopped going to school and following Stiles didn’t seem like a healthy way to spend his free time. Not that Derek was incredibly concerned with his mental health.

His eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat when he recognized the distinct scent of Stiles beneath the bitter, metallic smell. He immediately got out of bed, jumped down the stairs, and tore out of the house, not even bothering to put on a jacket or shoes despite the cold bite of winter. 

Stiles was somewhere in the woods, bleeding, hurt, and possibly in danger. Derek didn’t care about the cold. He didn’t care about his own promise to leave Stiles alone. He ripped his way through the forest, trying desperately to track the little boy in the red hood once more. 

But something was off. 

Stiles’ scent kept moving. It seemed the very instant that Derek caught it, he would lose it in the next. A few times he stumbled upon drops of blood on the ground and he knew Stiles had just been there, but where was he now?

Derek stopped, closed his eyes, and listened. And then he heard. 

Stiles was running. _But what was he running from?_

Somewhere a little ways away, he heard the quick but steady pace of footsteps, and the pounding of Stiles’ overactive heart. However, he heard no sounds of another creature or a predator of any kind. Derek didn’t hear anything else at all. Just the eerie silence of the woods and Stiles as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. When he listened harder, he heard shuddering breaths rip out of Stiles, breathing much too labored for running. 

Stiles was crying. 

Derek followed the sounds until his found himself running parallel to Stiles, far enough away that the boy didn’t even notice him. But Stiles didn’t seem to notice anything at all. Derek saw the blood when the scent hit him again, dripping down Stiles’ pants and pouring from his hands. And then he sensed something else entirely.

The heady, overwhelming wave of grief. 

Derek quickened his pace and stopped right in Stiles’ path, shocked when the boy slammed right into his chest. 

“Stiles…” Derek repeated. Stiles just blinked at him again, his eyes burning with tears. 

“Derek?” He asked, his voice barely audible or comprehensible, his throat sandpaper as he swallowed slowly. 

“Yeah.” Derek replied. “It’s me. Stiles, what happened?” He reached out and lightly touched one of Stiles’ wrists, his intent to fix Stiles’ pain, just as he always had. 

But Derek couldn’t fix this. Nobody could fix this at all. Stiles just needed to go. He needed to go. 

Stiles wrenched his arm away from Derek and pushed himself away when he realized Derek had his other arm around his waist. He had been afraid that Stiles was going to fall. But Stiles wanted to fall. He wanted to fall to the ground and never get back up. His legs shook and his arms burned and the cold he had ignored for so long slowly crept into him. Derek felt warm, and even more than he wanted to fall to the ground, Stiles wanted to wrap himself around Derek and pretend nothing was wrong.

But Stiles couldn’t do that. Because everything was wrong, and he didn’t deserve warmth. He had broken the only promise he had ever actually tried to keep. He had tried so desperately and done everything that he could, and he had failed. Stiles had failed. The little Prince had failed to save the Queen. 

Stiles needed to go. He pushed Derek away once more, this time with enough force that Derek actually stumbled back a few steps. Stiles turned to run, but he didn’t make it one step before Derek’s arms were around him. 

“Stiles, what happened?”

Derek knew he couldn’t let Stiles run away without risking injury or infection. The grief emanated from him in waves, and Derek knew. They both knew. But neither one could say it. 

Stiles struggled and wriggled in Derek’s hold, but the arms were solid against his chest. 

“Let me go.” He breathed, partly from exhaustion but mostly from exasperation. 

“Stiles. What. Happened.” Derek repeated, punctuating each word as a sentence. He held Stiles tightly against his chest, regretting that he hadn’t brought a jacket. Stiles’ skin was freezing. 

“Derek, let me go!” Stiles screamed, grabbing at Derek’s arms to loosen the now vice-like grip so he could get free. He screamed and he thrashed against Derek, but Derek just held him tighter. Soon Stiles’ feet no longer touched the ground, and Stiles cursed Derek’s supernatural strength as he became more and more helpless. 

“You bastard… put me down! Put me down… Derek… fucking put me down!”

Derek remained silent, the only sound in the forest the screams of a grieving boy. He dodged Stiles’ attempts to kick and head-butt his way out of the hold and felt nothing when nails dug relentlessly into his forearms. Derek stood a statue, desperately holding the boy as he thrashed. 

“You tried and you failed so just let me go. Let me go! God… you can’t do anything right at all! You made one promise, you stupid fucking.... and you couldn’t even keep that. You’re worthless. _Worthless._ ”

Derek knew that he wasn’t thrashing against him or yelling at him. He knew the curses weren’t directed at him at all, and that’s what hurt more than anything.


	10. Chapter 10

They stayed that way for the better part of two hours. Stiles screamed until his voice went hoarse, but he didn’t stop cursing Derek and werewolves and everyone else but the person he was actually cursing. Derek still said nothing, just hugged the boy tighter to his chest. 

_"Stupid goddamn... werewolves! I hate you, Derek, I hate you... I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..."_

_"And stupid doctors, can't even do their stupid jobs... I'm never going to the doctor again, never! Not ever, stupid, fucking..."_

_"And stupid, stupid, stupid..."_ Stiles cried until his words became unintelligible and Derek knew he was finally yelling at the one person he had been really angry with this whole time- himself. 

After what seemed like hours, Stiles finally started to slump in Derek’s arms and his attempts to claw his way out became exhausted, pathetic swats. His head dropped heavily as he finally gave up. 

“You… put me… down… please.” He pleaded, his voice now no more than a barely audible whisper. 

“Stiles. What happened.” Derek finally asked in a low voice.

Stiles went rigid in his arms, every muscle tensing to a painful degree. His whole body started to shake as a silent sob ripped through Stiles. He said nothing, and Derek didn’t push for an answer this time. But he knew that Stiles couldn’t just keep running through the woods, screaming at the top of his lungs, and ignoring the truth. He needed to say it. 

They were both silent until Stiles finally spoke.

“She… she’s… Derek, she’s…” He stammered. 

For the first time in his whole life, Stiles couldn’t think of a single word to complete the sentence. Nothing seemed adequate or appropriate or respectful enough. He searched and searched, going through every book he had ever read or that she had ever read to him, every word that he had ever seen, everything thing anyone had ever told him. Every word he had ever learned, but nothing. Nothing seemed right. 

And then Stiles knew.

“She’s _gone,_ Derek.” 

Hot tears seared Derek’s skin as Stiles went limp and collapsed into sobs. Derek let his head rest gently against Stiles’ neck, but he said nothing, knowing that absolutely nothing he could say would mean a thing. 

Stiles’ mother was gone and no amount of sentimental words or hollow promises would make that okay.

Derek knew. He knew because he felt it every goddamned day. Nothing would ever make that okay. 

Just as his voice had left, so did the tears as Stiles cried himself into dehydration. He hung sick and delirious in Derek’s arms. Derek gently shifted and scooped the boy up, cradling him in his arms. He said nothing as Stiles turned his head into Derek's chest and clutched at his shirt with a blood-soaked hand. 

Derek carried Stiles out of the woods, into his neighborhood, and up to the front door of the Stilinski house. The Sheriff’s car was in the driveway, along with a few others- Derek recognized the McCall’s sedan and the black Camaro. He couldn’t bring himself to even look at the blue Jeep in the open garage. 

Her Jeep in the open garage. 

The lights were on in the house and Derek heard everyone inside. Melissa McCall scrambled around, hopefully trying to get the Sheriff to eat something. Laura spoke quietly with Scott and Derek didn’t need to listen to know what they were talking about. The Sheriff shouted at someone Derek couldn’t hear, the stench of alcohol and grief and anger rolling off him in waves. Derek didn’t bother knocking.

Everyone fell silent as he stepped in, holding a now silent, unconscious Stiles in his arms. Melissa dropped something in the kitchen, and the Sheriff slammed the phone onto the receiver, not bothering to finish the call. Laura and Scott sat silently on the couch, staring.

Derek instantly wanted to turn around and run away, hide Stiles from the concerned, pitying looks. 

“What happened?” The Sheriff practically growled, as he cleared the room in four large steps. 

“I found him in the woods,” Derek replied evenly. He wanted to say he’s alright but that would have been a lie. He tightened his grip around Stiles afraid that the Sheriff might take him away. 

“Let’s…” The Sheriff said, in a gentler voice this time, running a hand across Stiles’ forehead and nodding toward the stairs. “Melissa, if you could…” 

She nodded and followed them. Derek carried Stiles up to his room and helped Melissa as she cleaned and tended to Stiles’ hands and knees. The Sheriff pressed a wet rag to Stiles’ forehead, but he looked unsure as if he didn’t know what else to do. Derek knew that it had always been Mrs. Stilinski that took care of Stiles when he was sick or injured or anything in between, and when she was gone, it was Laura. The Sheriff looked absolutely helpless as he gently stroked his son’s hair, not even hiding whenever a tear or two escaped down his cheeks. 

And then Derek realized that Stiles had not only lost his mother, but the Sheriff had lost his wife.

He reached out and put a hand on the Sheriff’s shoulder. He looked up at Derek in question, but Derek just nodded. 

“Thank you, son,” he whispered. Derek nodded once more. 

Melissa finished and the three dressed Stiles in clean clothes. Melissa left and went to finish her work in the kitchen, leaving Derek and the Sheriff alone. They sat on either side of Stiles, saying nothing as they studied the broken boy. Derek stared at Stiles and tried to understand how the little boy in the red hood had ended up here like this. How had his friend, his only friend, his little red riding hood ended up broken and sick and darkened by this terrible tragedy that no boy, no person, should ever have to face. How had Derek not known that it had gotten this bad? How could he have not sensed or realized? How could he have let Stiles do this by himself? 

He couldn’t sit and wonder any longer and he got up to leave, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

“You should probably take a shower. I think you need to be here when he wakes up.”

Derek nodded silently.

“The shower’s down the hall, towels are in the closet… but I’m sure you already know that. Jesus, sorry. I... I’ll get you some clean clothes to wear.”

Derek nodded once more before leaving the room. He closed the door but he couldn’t bring himself to leave when he heard the Sheriff start to talk. 

_“Jesus, Stiles. You can’t do this. I just lost… I can’t lose you too.”_

Derek managed to make it into the shower beyond prying eyes and the reach of listening ears before he started to cry.  
…

Eventually, Scott and Melissa left, only after the Sheriff had eaten. Laura and Derek joined him around the kitchen table and Derek realized that he hadn’t spoken to Laura since that day in the office over a year ago. She looked everywhere but at her brother and when Derek saw her eyes flash red he understood why.

Not only was Laura furious at Derek for leaving, but she had become the Alpha and Derek was supposed to be her pack. She had been all alone for a year, trying to figure out how to use this power that she wasn’t supposed to get for a very long time. Derek would have been the only person who would have even come close to understanding and he had abandoned her. He had abandoned the only family he had left. She was hurt and she was scared. Laura was scared. 

He cautiously reached his hands across the table and covered Laura’s as she nervously picked at a napkin, a habit he hadn’t seen since they were kids. Sometimes Derek forgot that Laura was human and flawed. He idolized her when they were younger, and even as they grew up and started to bicker as siblings always do, he was begrudgingly amazed at her ability to always win. Everyone loved Laura and she was so good at feigning perfection that sometimes he forgot she wasn’t. But in moments like these, as she shredded a napkin out of frustration and pain, Derek saw her humanity. Her hands stilled beneath his and she finally looked up to face him.

“I’m so sorry, Laura.” Derek knew it probably wasn’t the time or the place and that there were more pressing issues at hand, but he had to say it. He had to tell her, even if she didn’t know how much weight his words carried. Laura pulled away only to walk around and wrap her arms around her not-so-little brother. 

“I’m still mad at you.” She sniffled against his shoulder.

“I know.” Derek replied solemnly.

“But I need you in my life, little brother. We all do. So you can’t keep running away. Because once you start, that’s all you’ll ever do.” 

“I’m not going to run anymore.” Derek promised. The Sheriff stood up and patted them both on the shoulders as he shuffled back to his room. The morning had come, but it almost seemed as if the night had never happened in the way the house felt dark and cold. Laura pulled away, and lovingly patted her brother’s cheek as if she was seeing him again for the first time.

“I’ll go…” She whispered, gesturing towards the Sheriff’s room. “You go be with him.” 

Derek nodded as he turned to go to Stiles, hoping to repay a thousand debts and mend a world of broken promises. He didn’t expect Stiles to be awake when he entered, but the boy barely even acknowledged his existence. Derek didn’t know what to do or to say, or where he fit in Stiles life anymore. Stiles didn’t know anything about his life anymore and barely seemed to be conscious, offering Derek no clues. Derek slowly settled in on the side of the bed, his hands anxiously running up and down his thighs.

“Stiles?” He asked. The boy did no more than blink, but Derek wasn’t even sure that was a sign of acknowledgment. He was curled up on his side, clutching the blankets tightly under his chin, uncaring that the wounds on his palms were starting to open again. Derek could smell the blood and pulled his hands away, but Stiles didn’t react. 

“Can I get you anything?” Derek asked, but once again there was no response. 

Stiles just stared straight ahead, trembling slightly as his eyes filled with tears. Derek reached up and ran a hand across his short buzzed hair and the boy instantly stilled. Stiles closed his eyes and leaned slightly into Derek’s touch. Derek moved closer and started stroking his head with one hand and protecting Stiles’ hands with the other. 

And then Derek knew that Stiles wasn’t forgiving him at all. His mother used to stroke his head until he fell asleep, and she was never going to do that again. 

“I’m so sorry, Stiles.” Derek whispered even though he knew apologies were useless and empty to a boy who had just lost his mother. “I’m sorry that I left and I’m sorry that I wasn’t there. I should have been there. God, I should have… and I’m sorry I wasn’t. But I’m here now, Little Red. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Derek didn’t even know if Stiles could hear him or if he was even listening at all. 

Stiles heard. He wrapped his hands around Derek’s and held it tightly so that he would still be there when he woke up. Stiles didn’t want to lose anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovely angels  
> if I don't update regularly   
> pls come bug me on my tumblr  
> thelittlestwolf.tumblr.com  
> srsly i try really hard but sometimes i forget  
> so bug me  
> okay that's all  
> it gets better i promise  
> :)


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles didn’t talk for three days after his mother died. He didn’t say a word to Derek or Laura or even his father. He would interact with them and spend time with them, but he never spoke. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Every time he opened his mouth, people looked at him expectantly but the only words Stiles could think to say were she’s gone. 

Saying them out loud made them real, so he would just shut his mouth and not say anything at all. 

Being around Derek felt strange now. Stiles had forgotten what it was like to see him walk into a room, and he vaguely remembered how his eyes would light up and he would run to him. Now watching Derek walk into a room made Stiles anxious, awaiting the moment he would inevitably walk back out. 

But Derek didn’t leave this time. He stayed at the Stilinski house for three days, helping cook, clean, and make funeral arrangements. He inconspicuously placed himself next to Stiles at every opportunity, occasionally offering comforting touches just like he had when they were younger. Sometimes Stiles looked at him with big brown eyes that said a million things at once, and sometimes he stared right through him as if Derek was a stranger. Derek hadn’t ever seen a zombie before, and he never wanted to again. 

The funeral was nice and the weather was beautiful and it was everything you could hope for in a funeral. Not that people ever hoped for funerals, Stiles thought absently as he sat on the front row of chairs between Laura and his father. Derek sat beside Laura, but he didn’t have the privilege of sitting next to Stiles in this moment and he knew that. Laura repaid a favor she never expected to return as she held Stiles’ hands and protected him from the prying eyes of all others in attendance. 

Nearly the entire town showed up to pay their respects to the Sheriff’s wife, but many of them came to grieve personally as well. Before she had gotten sick, Mrs. Stilinski had been on town council and a drama teacher at the high school. She had lived in Beacon Hills her whole life and loved every day of it, and the town loved her right back. Stiles wanted to smile and thank everyone for the lifetime of frozen dinners and precooked meals that had come to his house over the past several years, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t think of anything as he watched his mother be lowered into the ground. 

A nice reception followed at the Stilinski house afterwards, with Melissa McCall acting as hostess while the Sheriff respectfully accepted the sympathy and empathy of his town. He received offers to help with Stiles, but he would always look at Laura and Derek and politely decline. At first, he tried to find Stiles and make him socialize, hopefully ease him back into normalcy. But the Sheriff realized that was a lost cause as his son no longer had a mother and his life would never be normal again.

Derek had the same idea, but he couldn’t find Stiles at all. He couldn’t even sense him through all of the people milling about. He found Scott awkwardly sitting at the kitchen table alone and realized that he had been around Stiles more in the past two years and maybe he would know where Stiles was.

“He’s probably hiding. Big crowds aren’t really his thing anymore. You can try his room, but he probably wants to be alone.” Scott explained in a harsh tone that suggested that maybe he wasn’t Derek’s biggest fan. He accepted the judgment and turned to go upstairs, saddened that the boy who used to tell fairytales to complete strangers couldn’t even stand to be in a crowd of his friends. 

Derek opened the door slowly and found Stiles hunched over, sitting on the side of his bed with the big book of stories in his lap. The pages were damp from tears and Stiles wasn’t reading at all.

“You know, I used to think these were real.” Stiles said in a low voice. Derek stepped in the room and pulled the door closed behind him, almost in disbelief that Stiles had just spoken. 

“What?”

“I used to think these were real, Derek. I used to think all of these fucking stories were real. That happy endings were real.” Stiles elaborated with a dark laugh, flipping to a certain page. Derek recognized the page. 

It was foreign; it didn’t actually belong in the book. He saw where it had been taped in many years ago over the actual ending of Little Red Riding Hood. On the page were the pictures and words of Stiles’ depiction of how the story should have ended, with Red and the wolf becoming friends. That way everyone lives happily ever after, Stiles had explained during their very first journey in the woods. 

“And if the ending wasn’t happy, I rewrote it. Because I was a stupid fucking kid who believed in happy endings.” 

Stiles ripped the amended page out of the book and tossed it to the floor. Derek didn’t move, but watched in horror as Stiles started to tear more pages out of the book. Stiles grunted and sniffled as he destroyed the book until Derek couldn’t let him do it any longer. He snatched the book away.

“Stiles, st-” He started when Stiles stood up and tried to take the book back. Derek didn’t let go.

“Where’s my happy ending, Derek? Where the fuck is my happy ending? Because my mom died and my dad’s never home and where the fuck are you?” Stiles screamed vehemently, his face red and the vein in his neck pulsing furiously. 

“I-I-I… Stiles…. I…”

“You what, Derek? You’re sorry? Because you know what? So is everyone else. Everyone else is sorry that she’s gone but that doesn’t change a goddamned thing. She was dying, Derek. For six years. Where’s her happy ending?”

Derek said nothing.

“That’s right. Because there aren’t any happy endings, Derek. Now, go. It’s what you’re good at. Just leave.” 

“No. Stiles. I’m not-”

Stiles punches the book so hard that it knocks the air out of Derek’s lungs for a moment.

“I said leave, Derek. You can’t just come back because it’s convenient for you now. It’s great though. You got to be the hero and save me from the woods, but you can go now.”

“Stiles, I’m staying now. I’m staying here with you.” Derek says, carefully putting the book on the desk away from Stiles’ reach. He put his hands on Stiles’ arms, but Stiles just shrugged away from him.

“No, Derek. No. I needed you. Every night I… No, you know what? It’s not important.” Stiles said, but Derek already knew. Derek knew that Stiles cried every night before he went to sleep and that somewhere in his cries was always Derek’s name. Because Stiles was so alone that he wished he had the one person in the whole world that he hated there with him.

But Stiles never actually hated Derek at all. And that just hurt worse.   
…

Derek stopped coming to the Stilinski house. In fact, he stopped seeing Stiles altogether. Stiles decided he was too old for a babysitter and walked to Scott’s house after school instead of having Laura pick him up. Derek did move in with Laura into her apartment on the edge of town. She became the manager of the local music store and Derek took odd jobs around town doing construction or other manual labor because he needed some way to get all of the energy out of his body. He never went back to high school but he did take classes online to finish his education and he read any book he could find; by the time he turned eighteen, Derek was probably smarter than most of the kids that he would have graduated with. 

Stiles finished middle school. After his mother’s death, he developed anxiety and he later realized that’s what happened in the woods on that night. It was a panic attack, the doctors told him. He didn’t tell anyone about them, not even Scott, because he didn’t need any more concerned, pitying looks from teachers, classmates, and people in general. Even his father gave him that look sometimes, but Stiles learned that after she died, his father’s face became a general look of disapproval because he couldn’t find a single thing right about a world without her. 

Stiles didn’t either. With his mother and Laura gone, there was no one to bandage his scraped knees or to hold him when he forgot how to breathe. There was no one to read him stories before he went to sleep, but then again there was no storybook to read anyways. When Derek had left, he had carefully gathered all of the pages that Stiles had torn out and tucked them safely away in the book. Stiles looked for it later, crying and hating himself for destroying the precious book, but he couldn’t find it. Derek had taken it, and that just made Stiles hate him more. 

Stiles split his time between ignoring the past and letting it overwhelm him into a panic attack. Some days he could wake up and pretend that his mother had gone on vacation, but she would be back. He would go to school and it would just be a normal day; he would tease Scott, obsess over the perfection that was Lydia Martin, and generally try to avoid attention in all of his classes. Stiles would walk home or go to Scott’s house, and everything would be normal. He had dinner with his dad and they talked about anything but serious things, and Stiles would feel okay. 

Until he woke up the next morning with a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. It would constrict his lungs and no matter how loud Stiles tried to scream, he couldn’t make a sound. Eventually his dad would come in to wake him up for school and find him in the midst of a panic attack, rush to his side, and calm him down. Sometimes his dad held him; sometimes he didn’t touch him at all. When the Sheriff wasn’t there, Stiles fought to get out of bed and stumble into the shower with all of his clothes on because that was the only thing he could do. He would sit there until he felt okay again, trembling and wet and alone. Stiles was tired of being alone. 

“I’m just tired, Mom. I’m really tired.” He whispered as he finally reached out and touched the large granite stone. It felt cold and distant, but he couldn’t pull his hand away as he traced the letters of her name and the dates that were much too close together. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way, was it? You were supposed to live for a really long time and watch me graduate and play lacrosse. You were supposed to talk to me about girls…. And guys…. I don’t know, Mom. I don’t know how I feel or how I’m supposed to feel and I can’t talk to Dad about it because his head would probably explode. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

“I saw Laura last week. She said she visited you when she came to visit her family. I hope she’s doing okay. I don’t really know anymore. I don’t really see her, but I wish I did. I miss them, too, Mom. I miss Sasha and William and Peter and Laura and Derek. And the stupid thing is that I don’t have to miss them. I could go see them. But I don’t even know what I would say. I don’t even know how things got this way. 

“Wasn’t it supposed to be easier? God, I think it was supposed to be easier. Like those fairytales we used to read. Those were easy, right? Because no matter what happened, everyone always lived happily ever after. But no one’s living happy here, Mom.”

Stiles stayed for hours, even after it was dark. 

And so did Derek, but Stiles couldn’t know he was there. After Stiles’ outburst, Laura made Derek promise he would stay away from Stiles. She explained how hurt the boy had been when Derek decided he wasn’t good enough to be his friend, even if that hadn’t exactly been the case. She told Derek about all the times Stiles asked about him and she never had an answer for him. Laura made Derek promise that he would give Stiles time to forgive him for breaking all of his promises and abandoning him when he needed it the most. So Derek stayed away, or at least far enough that Stiles wouldn’t know he had his own guardian angel watching over him. 

Derek thought of a million guard dog jokes that Stiles would make that he would never hear out loud. Derek stayed away for four years and Stiles never came to forgive him.


	12. Chapter 12

“No, Stiles. I don’t want to go on an adventure in the woods. I’ve never wanted to go on an adventure in the woods.” Scott whined as he zipped his jacket up as far as he could and pulled the hood securely over his head. 

“ _Scotthew_ McCall…”

“That’s not my middle name, Stiles... I’m pretty sure that isn’t even a real name.”

“That is just categorically untrue. Remember all the times we used to go as kids? Ah… those were the golden days….” Stiles threw an arm around Scott’s shoulder as they walked across the street towards the woods. Stiles ignored Scott’s arguments as he usually did because deep down Stiles knew that Scott would give up eventually. 

“Stiles, we were like six… and your dad stopped us every time.”

“Well we’re not six anymore, Scotty. We’re sixteen now. At least I am. And today is my birthday and I feel old so I’m just asking you to do this one thing with me, okay. You’re my best friend.” 

Stiles didn’t have to clarify that Scott was also his only friend to prove his point. He stared at his friend with big, brown eyes until Scott finally sighed and relented. He silently followed his best friend through the dark maze of trees. To Stiles, however, it wasn’t a maze at all, but rather a bittersweet reunion with a place he once loved. It was Stiles’ sixteenth birthday and the first day he had stepped foot in the woods since his mother died. The woods reminded him too much of his mother and Derek, and Stiles fought a losing battle every morning he woke up and tried not to think about either of them. That morning he had decided maybe he needed some closure, and what better place to end than where it all began. 

“Come on, dude! This is fun, so enough with the silent treatment. This is an adventure! Maybe we’ll find a body or something…” Stiles said once they had gotten so far into the woods, the road was no longer visible. He turned to his best friend with a huge grin, hoping to see one in return. Except Stiles saw nothing but darkness behind him. Scott was gone. 

“...Scott?”

No answer.

“Scott, come on, this isn’t funny, you asshole.”

Still no answer.

“ _Shit._ " 

Scott had abandoned him in the woods out of spite on his birthday. Or so he thought until he stopped moving to listen for his friend and he heard something else instead. Stiles stiffened as he heard the distinct sound of growling. It sounded eerily familiar.

“Derek?”

The growling ceased almost instantly, but somehow Stiles knew it wasn’t Derek or Laura or even Scott trying to do his best impression of a creature of the night. He slowly reached into his pocket for his cell phone, but in the bizarre twist of events that was Stiles’ life, it was gone. A stream of profanities stumbled out of his mouth before the growling returned, louder this time. Closer. Stiles did the first thing that came to his mnd.

“Derek!” He screamed with every ounce of power he had. Stiles didn’t know if Derek would hear him or if Derek even lived in Beacon Hills anymore. He had done a pretty good job of convincing himself that he didn’t care after Derek left years ago, but right now he cared. He really, really cared.

“ _Derek! Derek! Derek!_ ”

Derek sat straight up in his bed, eyes flashing and claws immediately lengthening. Had someone just said his name? Was it… No. It couldn’t have been. 

Derek had fallen asleep reading Little Red Riding Hood, his own little way of celebrating Stiles’ birthday ever since Stiles decided he wanted nothing to do with him. He dreamed about all the birthdays they had shared before, with everyone, with his family. An eight-year-old Stiles had just sucked in a huge breath to blow out the candles gleaming brightly on his Batman cake, but instead he froze. Derek didn’t remember this part of the memory, his eyes fixed on dream Stiles as the boy stared at him in absolute terror. Instead of releasing the breath, dream Stiles let out the most blood-curdling sound Derek had ever heard.

“ _Derek!_ ” He screamed, his volume piercing and expression terrified. Derek tried to reach him, but the boy just got backed farther and farther away into the shadows. He screamed Derek’s name over and over again until the last time was so loud that Derek woke in a cold sweat.

“ _Derek Hale, get your furry ass out here or I swear to god..._ ”

And suddenly Derek was bursting out of the apartment, running from a dream straight into his worst nightmare.

In the woods, Stiles fell backwards, his hands scrambling desperately in the leaves for anything he could use to protect himself. He cursed Derek and the Hales for telling him everything about werewolves except how to fight one. He didn’t even know if it was a werewolf or not, but the way the creature taunted him made Stiles believe that it was much too clever to be anything less than human. He would hear the growling and just as he figured out where it was coming from it would stop and leave Stiles in silence. Agonizing silence.

“Oh, c’mon you bastard. If you’re going to do something, do it. Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?” Stiles taunted right back, finally finding a stick and rising to his feet. He had given up on Derek, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

And then the creature laughed. A sickeningly dark, horrible laugh. The sound made Stiles’ skin crawl and his stomach leap into his throat, but he tightened his grip on the stick and got ready to swing. 

"No." A low voice answered from the shadow. Stiles forgot how to breathe.

“That’s what happens when you’re raised by wolves…” The dark voice said. Stiles swung absently in the dark and tried to swallow the scared sound that threatened to escape, even though he was quite sure the creature could already sense how terrified he was. Stiles was alone, Scott was missing, and once again Derek had abandoned him.

Derek heard Stiles shriek in pain as he tore through the woods and once again smelled the sickening scent of blood. Stiles’ blood. He roared into the night and suddenly all the noise stopped.  
…

“Shit, Stiles, wake up, wake up.” Derek breathed, dropping to his knees and examining Stiles’ bloody form. He had gotten there just in time to scare whatever it was away but not soon enough to keep it from carving a huge gash in Stiles’ side and knocking the boy to the ground. Although, Derek couldn’t help but notice as he lifted Stiles’ torn shirt to see the wound that Stiles wasn’t really a boy anymore. He wasn't little at all, actually. 

“Agh…” Stiles groaned himself into unconsciousness, his big brown eyes slowly rolling open and closed. His hands flexed at his sides which Derek took as a good sign that he wasn’t seriously injured. He didn’t know how Stiles got knocked unconscious or what even attacked him, but him moving at all seemed like a good sign.

“Stiles?” He asked, putting one hand on the side of Stiles’ face and the other on his stomach to keep him from sitting up. 

“Derek?” Stiles questioned groggily. His vision was all blurry and he couldn’t keep his eyes from crossing. A dull pain pounded in the back of his head. 

“Yeah.”

“Derek, what the hell are you… _oh holy shit mother of fuck what in the_ …” Stiles cursed, reaching a hand to his side. He had tried to sit up and give Derek a piece of his mind because how dare he crash his birthday excursion in the woods when a shooting pain tore through his side and blood soaked his shirt. Luckily, Derek caught his hand in time. Stiles collapsed again with a wave of nausea. “Oh my… oh my god…”

“Stiles, you’re okay.” Derek soothed, his thumb rubbing soft strokes over Stiles’ cheek. Stiles smacked his hand away.

“Derek! _My insides are on my outsides_!” He cried. Derek looked at him flatly.

“It’s a flesh wound. You’ll be fine. I’m more worried about your head. Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t know, dumbass, did you hit your head? Is that why you’re asking such stupid questions?” Stiles retorted, bringing his hands to massage the sides of his head because the dull pounding got louder with every second. 

Derek didn’t remember Stiles being so incredibly frustrating as he was right then and wondered if time really could change people beyond recognition. But he also knew that maybe it wasn’t time that changed his boy in the red hood. Maybe it wasn’t time at all. Derek knew because it wasn’t time that changed him. It had been a terrible combination of guilt and loss and a million other things he couldn’t and didn’t want to place. He didn’t care about anyone or anything except Laura, for whom maybe he cared too much. He always felt like he owed her something but he never explained why when he brought her lunch to work or cleaned the apartment. He also believed Stiles would be immune to his new coldhearted nature, if he ever saw him again. But as he felt the frustration build inside him, he couldn’t tell if it was because Stiles was being annoying or if he just didn’t like the way the boy had changed without him knowing. Derek should have been there.

“Scott.” Stiles choked out, bringing Derek out of his thoughts.

“No… I’m Derek. Now I’m really starting to worry that you…”

“No... Ugh... Derek, I came here with Scott and then he was gone and now I can’t find him. And then that thing attacked me and oh god, Derek, what if it attacked him too? What if it’s attacking him right now?! We have to go, we have to go find him… We have to… shit…” 

Stiles babbled in a frenzy because he was worried about his best friend. He had either forgotten about his wound or didn’t care because he tried to sit up again. He managed to prop himself up on his elbows, cursing his whole way up into a sitting position. Derek knew better than to argue with him or make him stop because apparently this Stiles was still exactly as stubborn as the old Stiles. 

“Okay, calm down. We’ll find him. Let’s just get you…” Derek said, trying to figure out a way to lift Stiles without causing his side to bleed or open further.

“No. You find him. You use your little werewolf senses to find him. _Now._ ” 

Derek sat back on his heels as if Stiles had physically pushed him away. He might have if he hadn’t been supporting himself on both arms. Stiles didn’t want him there. Stiles didn’t want him anymore. Derek silently stood up and turned away into the woods to look for Scott. 

_Shit._ Stiles thought to himself as he fell back to the ground again. In the millions of ways he pictured his reunion with Derek to go, this hadn’t even crossed his mind. Sure, he had imagined Derek coming to rescue him as he had when they were kids. Then he’d punch him for leaving and Derek would look hurt and guilty when he apologized right before Stiles hugged him. Then everything would be okay again. 

Except that it wouldn’t because Stiles’ mom was still gone and so were the Hales. Derek had left when Stiles needed him the most without so much as a reason or even an excuse. And as much as he missed Laura and Derek, no amount of hugs would just magically make everything okay.

But he didn’t have to be such a dick to someone that had just saved his life.

And he definitely have to be such a dick to someone that he loved so much that if Derek apologized right now he’d say okay and forgive him. Because Stiles just wanted Derek to be a part of his life again.

_Damn it, Stiles._


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles picked absentmindedly at his stitches. All forty-seven of them in his side, carefully stitched up by Laura, who apparently interned at the hospital now. Stiles should have known that but he didn’t because when Laura patiently patched up his side was the first time he had seen her in two years. He had made it out with forty-seven stitches and a mild concussion and thought that maybe his stitches bothering him was karma for taking out his frustration with Derek on Laura. Laura never left and Stiles should have done better.

However, Stiles’ itchy stitches and pounding head proved to be very little compared to Scott’s predicament.

“Scott… honey… you’re a werewolf.” Laura said, sliding her hands across the table to take Scott’s nervous hands.

Laura sat on one side of the Stilinski’s kitchen table, Scott and Stiles sat on the other, and Derek lurked in the corner. Stiles put one arm around Scott’s shoulders and continued to scratch his side with the other.

“Stop.” Derek growled and Stiles’ hand stilled. He looked up and saw hazel eyes staring right at him, but he stilled because that was the first time since that night in the woods that Derek had said a single word to him.

Derek had returned to Stiles carrying a bloody, unconscious Scott. Stiles scrambled off the ground, completely ignorant of the way his cuts reopened and his shirt became nothing more than a bloody rag. He looked to Derek for an explanation, but Derek said nothing. Stiles could see the rise and fall of his friend’s chest, but he wasn’t sure why Derek didn’t seem panicked or worried. When he started to sway, Derek shifted so he could carry Scott over his shoulder with one arm and use the other to apply pressure to Stiles’ side as they made their way out of the woods to Derek and Laura’s apartment. Stiles woke up with his side already stitched up and bandaged, Laura sitting diligently at his side. His head pounded like the world’s worst hangover, which as Laura explained, turned out to be very minor brain damage. If Derek had been there he might have made a joke about Stiles already being brain damaged, but he wasn’t.

“He’s with Scott… sweetie.” Laura explained, adding the term of endearment belatedly and softly almost as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say it.

Stiles offered her a weak smile. “Hi, Laura.”

“It’s been too long, kid.” Laura said with teary-eyes and a small smile.

They talked for a little while, catching up, but their conversation was mostly superficial. Stiles knew that Laura wasn’t telling him about Scott on purpose because in Laura’s eyes he would always be the little kid she used to babysit. Stiles learned a long time ago that he didn’t like secrets. Or maybe he had grown so far past the point of blissful ignorance that he couldn’t even pretend to remember what it felt like.

“So…”

“Derek’s in there with him. He’s fine,” she whispered, nodding toward a closed door down the short hall of the apartment. “He’s sleeping now.”

“I didn’t know Derek even slept.”

“Not Derek, honey...”

“I know. It was a joke.” Stiles grimaced and Laura offered a quiet laugh.

“He’s going to be okay, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t ask for clarification whether she was referring to Scott or Derek because he knew either way it would be a lie. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew Laura was speaking to him quieter than usual, the way she did when she was trying to be safe from super-poignant listening ears. She hadn’t said anything that Derek didn’t already know, and Derek’s senses were so keen he could probably understand her even if she mouthed the words. Laura was being quiet to not wake Scott. Because Scott had now joined the super-secret werewolf club and the fact that he had to start wearing leather jackets on Wednesdays would be the very least of his problems.

Stiles glared at Derek from across the table because somehow even this was his fault. Stiles’ life had spiraled so quickly and so intently after Derek had left that he found himself blaming Derek for a world of things he had nothing to do with. It was Derek’s fault Stiles had no friends. It was Derek’s fault that Laura didn’t come around anymore. It was Derek’s fault that werewolves existed. It was Derek’s fault that Scott was a werewolf. Even though it wasn’t.

“It must have been a rogue Alpha, honey, and he had no right to be here.”

“But… Stiles?! Why didn’t he bite Stiles?!” Scott cried, reaching thoughtfully to his own side to feel a mark that was no longer there.

“No Alpha in their right mind would ever try to turn Stiles.” Derek offered sarcastically. Laura growled. “Derek, hush.”

“Uh, Derek, could I please talk to you outside? Please.” Stiles said, ungracefully standing up from the table, the legs of his chair scratching relentlessly on the floor. He didn’t even care.

“No.”

“Yes. You two go. Outside.” Laura commanded, glaring at Derek before turning back to Scott with a much softer expression.

Stiles didn’t know whether Derek was afraid of her as a beta or as a little brother but he didn’t even look at her as he shuffled towards the front door. Stiles scrambled after him, thinking of a million different places he wanted to begin. What the hell did Derek have to be mad about? He was the one who left.

“Derek, what the hell…” He started as he swung open the front door and slammed it shut behind him, only to be shoved up against it the very next moment. Derek’s face was only inches from his and suddenly Stiles couldn’t remember a damned thing that he wanted to say.

“You said you wanted to talk, so talk.” Derek said in a low voice. Stiles didn’t even remember how to use words. Maybe it was his concussion or maybe it was the fact that Derek was suddenly a wall of heat crowding up against him and all of his childhood memories just got a lot more interesting. Derek had never been this aggressive before, at least not to Stiles. And now that Stiles was sixteen, well, that made this whole exchange a little bit different. 

“Stiles.”

“I… hot. It’s hot. I’m hot.” Stiles stammered. Derek took a step back. “Better?”

Stiles nodded slowly, trying to understand the frustrated expression on Derek’s face. “Okay. Go.”

“Wait… are you…. Are you mad…at me?” Stiles stuttered in disbelief, realizing that Derek’s expression wasn’t so much frustrated as it was angry. He remembered the time when they were kids and Stiles accidentally deleted Derek’s entire essay on the computer. Nearly ten years later, the expression hasn’t changed one bit.

Derek said nothing.

“You’re mad at me? Oh, Derek... that’s rich. That is just… oh my god, that’s good.” Stiles started to laugh because the idea that Derek had any right to be mad at him was so morbidly hilarious that he couldn’t stop himself. “Why are you mad at me, Derek? Because you left? Because you weren’t here when I needed you? Because you stole my mom’s book? Because every night when I… No. Nevermind. Go ahead, Derek. Please, enlighten me to the enigmas that are your thoughts. Try to use your words.”

Derek just stared at Stiles because he was mad at him, but he didn’t know why. Stiles was right. He didn’t even have a reason at all. Stiles stood against the door, fuming, because he had a million reasons to be mad at Derek. Derek could hear the blood racing through his veins and sense the anger coming off Stiles in waves. He saw his fists clenched at his sides and could practically hear him grinding his teeth together in an attempt to give Derek a chance to explain, but Derek didn’t deserve a chance. But the anger started to subside when Derek noticed the dark red stain that started to spread over Stiles’ wound. He had gotten so angry that he had reopened his wound. Derek should have said something that picking at it probably didn’t help, but he instead remained silent as he stepped forward and pressed a firm hand over Stiles’ side.

“Oh.” Stiles gasped at the touch as if he had come to a realization. His eyes went wide and he slipped one of his hands over Derek’s and fisted the other in Derek’s shirt to pull him closer. “I mean, words are overrated right?” He said with a smirk.

Derek looked at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. Did Stiles think he was coming onto him? Was he coming onto Stiles?

“Stiles… I…”

“It’s okay, Derek. It makes sense now.” Stiles whispered with a knowing smile. He leaned closer to Derek. Derek drew closer like Stiles was a magnet and he didn’t even have a choice. Stiles’ big, brown eyes welcomed him like they used to when they were kids, when Stiles wanted a hug or a piggyback ride or Derek’s last cookie. But now it was something more. It was something more.

“Stiles… I…” Derek stammered. Their faces were only inches apart now. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” Stiles said, apparently breaking out of whatever realization he had come to at the mention of blood. He looked down to see blood soaking the side of his shirt, and also Derek's hand. So Derek wasn't grabbing his side in a fit of passion, but instead to stop Stiles from passing out from blood loss. 

"You asshole." Stiles said, sinking as far back into the door as he could. Someone inside shouted just loud enough for Stiles to hear, and it sounded like Laura. She also sounded like she was getting closer, but her footsteps might have just been the sound of Stiles' heart pounding in his ears. Fortunately, Derek pulled back, but Stiles couldn't stop embarrassment from rolling off him in waves. 

"Stiles, I... I'm sorry about that." And suddenly the anger was back. 

"You're sorry? About that? Derek, I... You are _unbelievable!"_ Stiles' voice rose to a shout just as the front door was pulled open behind him and suddenly he was falling backwards. Laura stood with one hand on the doorknob and luckily, Scott had caught Stiles just in time to prevent his head from slamming on the tile floor, but then, maybe if it slammed on the tile floor, Stiles thought, he could get amnesia and forget everything that had just happened. 

"Thanks, man." Stiles sighed. 

"Uh... you're bleeding."

"Nice to know your werewolf senses have given you keen observational skills." 

Derek stepped over Stiles without one more word, went to his room, and shut the door. 


End file.
